


If you're out on the road

by Innytoes



Series: Tiny Stars Hollow Punk Steve Roger Gilmore [1]
Category: Gilmore Girls, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Gilmore Girls Setting, Christopher's Meh Parenting, Coming Out, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Emergency Pie, Emily Gilmore's disapprovement, Frottage, High School, Lots of shouting, M/M, Multi, Mutual Masturbation, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Teenage Drama, awkward conversation about condoms, break ups (but only canon ones), super awkward man dates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-09-09
Packaged: 2018-05-29 00:30:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 11
Words: 57,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6351712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Innytoes/pseuds/Innytoes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve Roger Gilmore loves his life in Stars Hallow. But with his sister Rory going to Chilton and compulsory Friday Night Dinners with the grandparents, everything seems to be changing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Of Chilton and Friday Night Dinners

**Author's Note:**

> The MCU/Gilmore Girls AU nobody was asking for. Special thanks to [thekingandthelionheart](http://thekingandthelionheart.tumblr.com/) for encouraging me to do the thing and [thealidoyle](http://thealidoyle.tumblr.com/) for beta-ing.
> 
> The title is of course from the Gilmore Girls theme tune.

If there was one thing that could be said of Steve Roger Gilmore, it was that he had a lot of heart, but he didn’t always think things through before rushing in. Usually, this meant getting into fights he probably couldn’t finish, or realising halfway through painting his room that he really should have checked to see if he had enough paint, or volunteering for too much stuff for one of the many Stars Hollow festivals. It did not usually result in him hanging half upside-down in a tree, trying to hook his other leg on the branch so he could pull himself up, yet here he was.

He did make it, though. Barely. But he did.

Bucky’s face appeared at the window, surprise morphing into confusion as he slid the window open. “Did you climb the tree?” he asked, face incredulous. And okay, Steve wasn’t the most athletic, and yes, he did nearly fall out of the tree twice, but Bucky didn’t know that. Besides, Bucky climbed up to his window all the time.

“I can climb,” he said, fussing with the laces of his muddy boots so he could leave them outside on the roof before slipping into Bucky’s room. Bucky kissed his cheek, nuzzling his nose against him for a second before letting him go.

“We have a front door, you know. It’s not even after curfew. My parents like you.” Which was true. Just like Bucky was more or less a permanent fixture at the Gilmore house, Steve was like a second son at the Barnes house. The Barnes house contained a lot more vegetables not located on pizza, though. Steve was pretty sure Winifred had some kind of longstanding campaign to feed him more fresh, healthy food.

“I wanted to see just _you_.” If Winnie saw him, she’d immediately know something was wrong. And she’d probably manage to drag it out of him before he could manage to escape upstairs. He couldn’t risk that. He didn’t want his drama to get back to his mother due to some kind of Mom Code thing. It wasn’t fair on Rory, and he didn’t want his bad mood to spoil things for her and Mom. “Rory got into Chilton.”

Bucky beamed, his entire face lighting up. “Stevie, that’s great!” He’d been there for all the struggles and at least half of the discussions. Hell, he’d even chased down and scaled a tree when one of the papers from the admission forms had blown off the porch. Bucky, much like the Gilmores (and the rest of Stars Hollow, really) was invested in Rory getting into Chilton. Steve tried to smile with him, but it felt brittle on his face. Bucky paused. “It’s not great?”

“It is,” Steve said, trying to muster up the excitement he’d felt earlier, when he saw Rory in her plaid skirt. “She deserves it, she’s way too smart to waste her time at Stars Hollow High. It’s just… Chilton is really expensive.”

He flopped down on Bucky’s bed, pulling one of his pillows to his stomach and wrapping his arms around it. He felt like a shitty brother for saying it. Here this great, amazing thing had happened to Rory, something that would help get her into Harvard, and here he was worrying about himself. Bucky dropped down next to him with a little bounce, before wrapping his arm around Steve.

“Ah.”

Bucky understood. Bucky had three younger sisters and two jobs. Bucky’s parents were great people, but with Bucky’s dad only being able to work part-time at the garage after he came home from the war and Winnie’s full time job at the craft store not paying that great, there wasn’t a lot of money left for college after four mouths to feed.

Just like Steve had a cardboard box hidden under his bed with all the money from his various odd jobs of the last five and a half years – painting signs, designing posters for various town events, that time he tried to mow Babette’s lawn and had to be carried home by Morey after two rows because he needed his inhaler – Bucky had a glass jar and a plan, too. Steve was pretty sure Bucky hadn’t told anyone yet, but he was planning to sign up for the army so he could get his degree in engineering on the GI bill. That wasn’t really an option for Steve (lawn-mowing incident case in point), but he had his own plans. He wasn’t going to let his dumb idea of Yale art school get in the way of Rory going to Harvard.

“It’s really great that Rory’s getting this chance,” he said, decisively, as if that would make the hollow feeling in his ribcage go away. He could feel Bucky nod above him, his cheek resting against Steve’s head as he runs his fingers over the recently buzzed parts of Steve’s hair.

“I’m sure your mom will think of something. She didn’t seem worried, did she?” Steve shrugged, leaning in closer.

“Not really.” But then, she never seemed too worried about money in front of them. She never let Steve and Rory worry about that. Even though Steve knew for damn sure that if it wasn’t for all his damn hospital bills as a kid – and still, even though the biggest problems and surgeries were behind them now – Lorelai and Sookie would already be running their own inn. He watched the news, okay. He knew how expensive health care was in this country. He knew how much his stupid inhaler cost.

“Then stop worrying,” Bucky said, tugging on the end of Steve’s droopy Mohawk and fishing a leaf out of it. “Would you want to go?”

“To Chilton?” Another nod. Steve snorted. “No. Can you imagine?” He got into enough detentions here, thank you very much. Besides, what was the point of a fancy school when you would miss at least two months a year due to being sick? The only reason he wasn’t a year or two behind was because of all of Rory and Bucky’s tutoring.

“Vividly,” Bucky said, and he could hear the grin in his voice. Steve squirmed around until he could look his boyfriend in the face.

“You just want to see me in a little plaid skirt,” he accused. Bucky blushed beet red. Even after all their time together, Steve loved that he could still catch him off guard. Okay, so he’d had to up his game a little in the last year or so, making it so some comments could only be said far out of parental earshot, but he could still do it.

“What can I say? I am a simple man of simple tastes,” Bucky proclaimed with exaggerated dignity.

“Pervert. I’m not stealing my sister’s uniform so you can get your rocks off.” He prodded Bucky in the side. The asshole didn’t even squirm, just tightened his stupid dumb (hot) abs.

“You steal everything else off her, Mister ‘Stop being so gender normative, Bucky, a sweater is a sweater’.” And yeah, okay, he did sometimes snag stuff from Rory’s closet. He liked when the sleeves of his sweaters were a bit longer sometimes, okay, and Rory was taller than him. Besides, she did the same to him.

“You’re gross,” he shot back.

“Says the guy who comes to all my dance lessons at Miss Patty’s to stare at my butt.”

“Who says I’m staring at _your_ butt, you jerk?”

“OH, STEVE, EW.”

-

Steve arrived home still breathless with laughter. Their joking argument had quickly devolved into a pillow fight, which had devolved into a lot of thumping and shouting, which had turned into George standing in the doorway amusedly watching Steve trying to smother his son with a pillow. He’d been sent on home with only a vague worried ‘you _climbed_ the _tree_?’ from Winnie. He’d rounded the corner to the sound of George telling Rebecca, no, she couldn’t climb the tree up to the roof, no matter what Steve did.

The week kind of went downhill from there, though. Mom and Rory didn’t seem to be speaking, and when they did it was tense. There had been more than one slammed door. When Mom took him aside to tell him about Friday, she hadn’t even laughed at his joke about there being no major holidays this month.

“I know you usually spend Friday nights at Bucky’s,” she’d said. They usually studied and watched Bucky’s sisters while both his parents were working. Sometimes they took the kids to the playground. It was kind of a bummer to miss out on that. He had an essay to not-write-while-kissing-Bucky. “But I need you to do this for me, okay? It’s important.” 

“Okay.”

“And I need you to be on your best behaviour, okay? Your sister is already doing the ‘difficult teenager’ thing this week.” The unspoken ‘instead of you, for once’ didn’t need to be mentioned. He was pretty sure he’d gotten all of Rory’s rebellion while she got his extra inches in height. He’d just nodded, and given his mom a hug, and called Bucky to let him know what was going on. (Bucky thought it was weird too.)

The silence in the car ride over was even worse. He’d done his best to dress nice. Well, his version of nice, anyway. His hair didn’t have any kind of spikes in it, but had been combed to the side, so at least he looked normal from one side. (Except for the blue streaks, of course.) He’d tried combing it in a mid-part, but that just made him look like a deranged serial killer. He’d worn his ‘going to the Grandparents’ pair of nice slacks, and well, if the only suspenders he could find to hold them up were the red plaid ones, that gave the whole ‘boring black pants, white button up’ thing some colour. He’d even cleaned the mud off his Doc Martens.  Mom hadn't sent him back up to change, anyway. Though maybe that was mostly because she was preoccupied with Rory.

Grandma has opened the door, and he and Rory had given their usual ‘Hi, Grandma’ at the same time. It had been cuter when they were little, but the Grandparents still got a kick out of it, and anything that would make this night go smoother was welcome. Rory got a smile, and mom got a comment about throwing away her coffee cup. When she turned to Steve, her eyes flicked over his outfit with only mild disapproval (he was counting it a win), before stopping on his hair.

“What on earth have you done to your hair?” she asked, as if it wasn’t hair dye, but the blood of innocents in his hair. (Oh, great idea, red tips next time.)

He tugged at his bangs. “What do you mea- _oh my god when did that happen_?” He could feel the warning kick against his ankle from Mom’s side. Shit, right, he was supposed to be the good kid tonight. Best behaviour.

“What?”

“Just joking, Grandma.” He tried his best innocent ‘pleasing the adults’ smile. It even worked kind of okay on Mrs Kim, sometimes.

“Well…” Grandma paused, one stretched out, awkward beat of silence, before turning back to Rory and putting an arm around her. “I want to hear all about Chilton.”

“I haven’t actually started yet,” Rory said, letting herself be pulled away. He looked up at Mom, giving her a grimace of ‘Sorry’. She dumped her coffee cup in the waste bin and rolled her eyes, putting an arm around him as they followed Grandma and Rory.

The first thing Grandpa said when they walked in was: “Lorelai, your daughter is tall.” Mom made a joke, her hand squeezing his arm as a reminder of best behaviour when Grandpa looked at him for a moment and Steve could almost hear the words ‘Lorelai, your son is short’ floating through the air.

Best behaviour. He’d promised Mom. Best behaviour.

The entire dinner became an exercise in keeping his head down and repeating ‘Best behaviour, best behaviour bestbehaviour bestbehaviourbestbehaviourbestbehaviour’ in his mind until the words lost all meaning. He knew Mom could fight her own battles, but hearing his grandparents put down the Inn and all her hard work made his blood boil. He was this close to making a scene (“He always was a smart one, your father. You must take after him, Rory”), best behaviour be fucking _damned_ , when Mom got up to go to the kitchen.

He was just about to go after her when Grandma told him – and Rory, their freaky twin thing meaning she had the exact same idea – to stay put and keep their Grandfather company. They exchanged a look, and Steve dropped back in his seat, stabbing viciously at a potato.

It wasn’t really eavesdropping. He didn’t even have to get up and put his ear by the door or anything. It was more that you couldn’t help but overheard the shouting. It wasn’t like Grandma was saying anything different than the last five awkward Christmasses and Easters and what have you. Though she sure was being blunt about it.

“When you get pregnant, you get married. Children need a mother and a father!”

“Traditionalist garbage,” he couldn’t help but mutter. Rory shot him a look and hissed ‘Steve’ warningly.

At least Mom was giving as good as she got. She was right, she had nothing to be ashamed of. She had a great life, and a good job, and-

“Well, I wasn't too proud to come here to you two begging for money for my kid's school, was I?”

Oh.

Oh, shit. So that’s why they were here. Steve looked at Rory, who stared back at him with wide eyes. Obviously she hadn’t known either.

Shit.

Of course that’s why they were here. Mom didn’t have that kind of Chilton Money just lying around. That had gone out the window with her surprise twins, and her son’s surprise laundry list of medical issues, and the operations, and the trips to the ER, and his pneumonia last winter, and his bail money last summer, and all of the other stupid little things that came with having two kids at sixteen.

Shit. Fuck. Of course Grandma had set this up. There was nothing that woman did that didn’t come with strings of some kind. A voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Rory told him that was being unkind. But Rory had never gotten an expensive oil painting set for Christmas when they were twelve with a comment about how if his mother just let him visit more often, he could take private art lessons at Grandma and Grandpa’s house. (It had taken two weeks of arguing before he’d realised that was exactly what Grandma had planned. He’d taken the set to Winnie at the craft store, who’d helped him exchange it for store credit and just enough change so he could buy Mom a box of chocolates as an apology.)

Friday night dinners. For the rest of their lives? At least until Rory was done with Chilton, he supposed. Those were a lot of Friday nights without Bucky. Those were a _lot_ of nights to be on his best behaviour.

Oh well, at least Rory and Mom were talking again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me on tumblr [here](http://innytoes.tumblr.com/).


	2. Of golf, black eyes, and bingo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Rory has her first day at Chilton, Steve gets his 7th black eye of the year (probably) and Lorelai Imparts Some Wisdom.

The morning Rory started Chilton was kind of chaotic. And not the good, fun kind. More shouting kind. And not the good, fun shouting. Rory was already in her Chilton uniform, looking freakishly perfect, and Mom… Mom came running down the stairs in cut-off denim shorts and a pink, slightly too short t-shirt.

“No. Go back upstairs.”

“It’s seven _nine_ teen,” Rory said pointedly.

“I can’t, this is literally the only thing I have that’s clean,” Mom was saying, already halfway out the door. He followed them out on the porch, watching the chaos. And apparently, so was Bucky, who was standing by the jeep.

“Isn’t today Rory’s first day at Chilton?” he asked. “I brought her a good luck card, the girls made it.”

“It is and we’re late!” Rory said, grabbing the card before diving into the car.

“And Lorelai is wearing that?”

“The fuzzy clock didn’t purr!” Mom shouted. The car sprang to life with a roar. Bucky sprang back with a yelp.

“Well, yeehaw!” Bucky called, giving Rory just enough time to glare at them and watch Steve punch Bucky in the arm before the jeep rounded the corner.

-

School was nothing special. He went to class, got distracted worrying about Rory, had lunch with Bucky in their usual spot, handed in his essay, and got a black eye in between fourth and fifth period. He only missed fifteen minutes of class between being sent to the principal’s office and swinging by the nurse’s office for an icepack, so it was actually a pretty good day.

Bucky fussed over him after school, insisting on carrying his books for him. “You know, sometimes I think you like getting punched.” Steve rolled his eyes. Ow. Bad idea. Mom was waiting outside the school, looking considerably more like a grown-up and less like a Dixie Chick. Steve ducked behind Bucky, because the best thing about having a tall, strapping boyfriend was being able to use him as a human shield.

Said human shield wasn’t being very helpful, though, because he just walked him over to Mom and kissed his cheek – the one furthest away from the bruise – and said: “I have to go to work. Be good.” He didn’t even wait for the completely witty remark Steve had up his sleeve, running off and leaving Steve to hide his black eye behind his hair by ducking his head like a dumbass.

“I don’t think I should come with you to pick up Rory,” he blurted out at Mom’s shoes before she could say anything.

“What? Why?” Mom asked. “Rory would love to see you, I’m sure. We’ll get her coffee and donuts and…” She trailed off when Steve looked up. There was a bit of swelling, and his eye was slowly starting to go from an angry red to purple.

“You should see the other guy,” Steve joked, because they both knew that the ‘please stop getting into fights at school’ talk was a lost cause.

“Why?” Mom asked, grinning. “What did Bucky do to the other guy?”

Steve refrained from rolling his eyes again, because he learned from his mistakes. Sometimes. “Very funny. That jerk was bothering Skye again, I couldn’t just not say anything.” And, well, saying sometimes led to punching, especially where Grant Ward was concerned.

“I know, kiddo. But why don’t you want to go pick up Rory? Does your head hurt? Do you want me to drive you home first?” Mom felt his forehead, like a she could feel if he had a concussion that way. Steve pulled away.

“No, I’m fine,” he said. “I just don’t want those fancy school kids at Chilton to get a bad impression of Rory.” It wouldn’t do to have her delinquent brother waiting for her with a black eye and a busted lip. He didn’t want there to be rumours. From what he’d seen in movies, private school kids could be really mean and gossip-y. (Also, sometimes witches. He should remember to warn Rory.) “I mean, not after the impression you made this morning.” He grinned, which also wasn’t the best idea in the hurting face department but was so worth it for the look on Mom’s face.

“Watch it, mister,” Mom said. “Fine. Go to Luke’s and go ask him for some ice or something. We’ll meet you there.” She ruffled his hair and he batted at her hand, waving when she got in the car. It kind of sucked that he wouldn’t get to hear all about Rory’s first day the minute she got out, but he’d hear about it when they got back.

“Hey, Luke,” he called out, slipping onto a bar stool. “Can I get some ice?”

Luke popped his head out of the back, taking in his busted eye. “What did you do this time?”

“I didn’t do anything,” Steve told him, gladly accepting a clean tea towel with ice in it. He pressed is against his eye gently. “It was Ward. He was bothering Skye.”

“Skye?” Luke said, like he had many things to say about the name. He probably did.

“Mary-Sue Poots,” Steve explained. “She goes by Skye now.”

Luke paused. “That’s… probably a good thing,” he conceded. He grabbed a slice of pie and set it in front of Steve. Steve beamed. Luke had developed some kind of system. When he showed up with a black eye, he got pie. A busted nose meant some kind of muffin and anything that meant bloody teeth meant donuts. When he’d been bailed out of jail, Luke had made him a mocha-coffee-caramel milkshake, which was so good Steve had briefly considered taking up a life of crime.

It had only happened twice (so far). The first time had been at a gay rights protest in Hartford last year. He’d put himself between a rather aggressive member of the crowd and another protestor and got arrested for ‘causing a disturbance’. Luckily, the testimonies of the people around him had gotten him out of too much trouble. And last month he’d been picked up in Stars Hollow because apparently getting up extra early to get started on the mural at the retirement home was suspicious behaviour and he’d been arrested for attempted vandalism. (Mom had shown up with Taylor. They’d sat next to each other in the now open jail cell watching Taylor tear the deputy sheriff a new one, since Taylor been the one to arrange the whole mural thing in the first place.)

“Hey Luke, you think if I get Grant to punch me in the face again, I could get a free cup of coffee to go with this?”

-

Friday Night Dinner was off to a good start. There had been capital-L Looks about his eye, a thinly veiled comment about violence not solving anything, and broccoli in the salad. Yuck.

By the time dessert was being brought in, the grandparents had snubbed Mom and completely skipped over Steve to talk about Chilton. And yeah, it was pretty funny, Rory and sports. Bucky had offered to teach her something, softball or soccer or basketball, but they’d both stared at him until he’d sighed and given up suggesting sports.

He entertained himself by doodling on his jeans with a pencil he’d snuck in. So Steve, what about you, how are things? Oh, great, Grandma, I’m nearly done with the giant mural at the retirement home. Really, Steve, I didn’t know about that. Yes, it’s to cheer up the outdoors area behind the home so it’s colourful even in winter. Lots of bright colours and flowers, it’s kind of Art Deco meets modern-day graffiti. Why how lovely, Steve, there’s more to you than being punched in the face after all. Thanks, Grandma.

“Your grandfather plays every week at the club. He could teach you to play golf like a pro.”

Steve looked up from his imaginary conversation just in time to catch Grandpa’s horrified face. Watching Grandma subtly and unsubtly guilt and talk and steamroll everyone into her idea sometimes reminded Steve of those really intense political thrillers. And of course Grandma got her way.

When they were outside, Mom started apologising for now being able to rescue Rory. Rory, of course, seemed to be looking on the bright side. Or maybe now.

“Maybe I’ll like it. Maybe Steve can come with me.” She turned wide and hopeful eyes at him. Steve put up his hands in defence.

“No, no. Steve has a mural to finish on Sunday. Besides, I don’t think my delicate lungs can handle all that… nature.”

Rory shot him a look. “You’re going to be breathing in paint fumes all day.”

“Paint fumes aren’t nature.”

-

He spent Sunday putting the finishing touches on the mural. It took longer than expected, mostly due to the impromptu boxing lesson Stan gave him when he saw his black eye. There would be an official ribbon-cutting ceremony next week. But for now, there was celebratory tea for the seniors, and a lot of pats on the back and pinched cheeks for Steve. He also got at least five pieces of hard candy slipped into the pocket of his work-overalls.

Bucky came over with his dad’s camera, and they took pictures of the mural. A few for Steve’s portfolio, a few of Steve and the residents. Stan insisted on taking one of him and Bucky in front of the mural. Steve knew right away that he would be printing the picture of Bucky surprise-kissing his cheek and hanging it on his wall. Even if his surprised face did make him look kind of dumb.

He spent the evening at Bucky’s, curled up on the couch (and half on Bucky’s lap) watching a movie with Bucky’s sisters. When he got home, Rory had her door firmly closed and Mom was looking moody, so he just slunk off to bed. It was weird, they’d never really fought before. Steve and Mom, yes, lots of times, but Rory and Mom didn’t fight. He was pretty sure it had something to do with the grandparents.

By Friday, they seemed to have made up. Which was good, because Steve wasn’t sure how they would survive a Friday night dinner with Mom and Rory still fighting. Grandma could smell conflict like bears could smell fear, he was sure of it.

Grandpa came in and practically beamed at Rory, telling her about some book she’d mentioned talking to him about. He led Rory away to look at it. Grandma absentmindedly handed him and Mom their drinks before saying she’d like to see too, and Steve couldn’t help but think her tone sounded smug.

“You can go with them, you know,” Mom told him, watching the door where Rory and the grandparents had disappeared through. Part of him wanted to, because watching Rory get excited about a book was always fun, and he hadn’t seen the study yet, maybe there was art in there. Instead, he slouched in his seat some more.

“Why? They obviously only care about Rory.” It came out more bitter than he meant it to, and that wasn’t fair to Rory. Obviously they like Rory better. And he shouldn’t be rubbing Mom’s face in the fact that they pretty much left her sitting here like she didn’t matter, too.

Mom shifted closer until she was next to him, her knee knocking against his. “Hey,” she said in her ‘let’s stop Steve from sulking about the unfairness of the universe’ voice. She used to use it on him all the time when he was little and couldn’t go outside to play because he was sick. “That’s not true. Your grandparents care just as much about you as they do about Rory.”

Steve bit his lip, which was still kind of sore from Grant punching him. “They care about having someone nice and sweet and smart to parade around in front of their rich friends,” he said, low and careful. He was not going to get emotional over this. He didn’t care, he didn’t _want_ to be nice and sweet or be paraded around some dumb country club. “Rory’s good at that. She doesn’t show up to dinner with a black eye. She’s smart.”

“You’re smart.”

“Not like Rory.” It was okay, though. Being smart like Rory sounded kind of exhausting.

“Hey. You’re smart. And an amazing kid. You were standing up for someone, that’s really brave and kind.” Steve shrugged. He just didn’t like bullies. “Just because you’re different than Rory doesn’t mean they don’t love you.” Another shrug. He didn’t doubt that Mom loved him just as much as she loved Rory, but the grandparents? He was too much like Lorelai. Too argumentative, too stubborn, not that interested in being polite to people he didn’t feel deserved it. Who wouldn’t pick Rory over that?

“I can barely keep from arguing with Grandma over everything.” Bucky had told him to stop biting the inside of his lip to keep quiet, because he kept flinching when they kissed. He’d taken to balling his toes up in his shoes instead.

“You know what I used to do?” Mom said, leaning her head closer, like she was telling a secret. “When I had to get through a fancy dinner party without getting into trouble?”

“You’d do it anyway?” Steve guessed.

“Well, sometimes,” Mom conceded. “Or I’d play bingo.”

“Bingo?”

Mom wriggled her fingers at his bag, which he’d started to bring just in case there was a chance to escape and draw something. There was a painting in the hall upstairs with a really great composition he wanted to sketch. “Give me a piece of paper and something to write with.”

He flipped to one of the back pages of his sketchbook and handed over a glittery purple pen, watching in fascination as his mother started drawing out a grid. “I’d make my own bingo cards and wait for people to say or do certain things and cross them off. If I got bingo, it was a sign to sneak out and steal dessert from the kitchen.”

Mom drew a smiley face in the middle of the grid, then started writing in the squares.

_Misnaming the staff. Comment about mom’s outfit. Comment about Steve’s outfit. Awkward silence._

Steve grinned. “I think Grandma would notice if I tried to sneak away to the kitchen, though. What do I win if I get bingo?” _Comment about Steve’s hair. Joke falls flat. Grandma scolds Grandpa. Rich people gossip._

“How about I take you to Luke’s on Saturday morning and get you whatever you want? Or pester Luke into making whatever you want?” Bucky usually worked on Saturday mornings. And watching Mom annoy Luke until he made them something not on the menu was always hilarious.

“Deal.”

“Come on, then, help me fill these out.”

“Classist comment.”

“That face Grandma makes when she’s not sure if we’re being serious or not.”

“Comments about how much coffee we drink.”

“A comment about my love life.”

“When Grandpa ignores whatever weird thing we just said and goes ‘ah’.”

“Good one. Weird Chilton fact nobody but Grandma would know.”

 “Or you could read the newsletter for a change. Heteronormativity.”

“Big word. See, I told you you were smart.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me on tumblr [here](http://innytoes.tumblr.com/).


	3. Of Ds, deer, and cats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Rory gets a D and hit by a deer, cats die, Bucky is not the name of a hooligan, and burglars can too be handsome, _Steve_.

He hadn’t been snooping when he found the paper. First of all, it had been his room first, before Mom had made them switch rooms after the third time she caught Bucky sneaking in through his window. (Rory hadn’t minded because she was now closer to the coffee in the morning, and once Steve had found out Bucky was an excellent climber, he hadn’t minded either.)

Secondly, he really needed a highlighter. He had all the art supplies in the world up in his room, but of course he couldn’t find a decent highlighter. Trying to use watercolours wasn’t really working out that well. He kept getting distracted wanting to paint something. Which would usually not be a problem, but he had a history test on Friday and he needed to go over his notes.

The paper was stuffed away at the bottom of Rory’s bag, but when he pushed it aside he saw the bright red D. Stupidly enough, the first thing he thought was that Rory had one of his old essays in her bag. Or maybe she was tutoring some kid? But the essay had her name at the top. He was still staring at it when Rory came in the room.

“Steve!” she shouted and grabbed the paper out of his hand. “That’s private!”

“Sorry,” he peered at Rory. No wonder she’d been so freakishly into studying lately. He’d been worried something was wrong. She hadn’t even wanted to go to the bookshop with him and Bucky last night. “Are you okay?”

“Of course I am,” Rory said, entirely unconvincingly. She was folding the paper up smaller and smaller, like that would make it go away. “What are you even doing here?”

“Looking for a highlighter.” Rory glared at him. “What? You just bought like four highlighters. One to dry up, one to lose, one for your brother to steal and one to use.” He figured that was the system, anyway. Maybe the fourth one was actually to throw at the annoying kids at school. “Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

He’d never seen Rory look so sad and mopey in his life. And he’d seen her plenty mopey. Like that time they went to the library to get a new stack of books and it was closed for the day. She shrugged, sitting down on the bed. “I just… I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Luke would probably make you pancakes if you told him,” Steve pointed out.

“I don’t want pancakes,” Rory said, shoving the paper back in her backpack.

“Rory, I am an expert on getting Ds. It’s not the end of the world. You just started a new school, it’s bound to take a while to adjust.”

Rory rolled her eyes. “You get Ds on your essays because you hand in your papers with stick figure doodles to illustrate your point and start paragraphs with ‘sorry if this part doesn’t make sense, I was loopy on cold medication’.” Steve shrugged, because, yeah. He still thinks his half-delirious-with-fever-half-high-on-flu-medication explanation of Animal Farm was one of his better essays. Even if there was an entire paragraph in there about bacon that had very little to do with anything.

“I worked hard on my essay, Steve. Really hard.” He could see just a hint of a trembling lip, and he could feel his overprotective brother instinct rear up.

“Do you want me to go kick your teacher’s ass?” he asked. It was kind of their in-joke, because they both knew that a) Steve would totally try it if she said yes, b) Steve would promptly get his ass handed to him if he tried, and c) this is why Rory never says yes. It only got a faint, not very heartfelt smile out of her this time. “How can I help?”

“Don’t tell mom,” Rory pleaded. “And just… let me study. Maybe run interference.”

“I will be the best brother ever and bring you snacks and drag our mother out of the house so you can study in peace and quiet,” Steve promised solemnly, one hand raised and the other on his heart. Rory looked relieved. “In exchange for a highlighter.”

He got his highlighter, but only after Rory shoved him off the bed.

-

The next few days involved helping Rory study. Steve even went to the market and bought her some fruit as a snack, because it was supposed to be brain-food. Taylor looked at him funny. He and Bucky had also been ambushing Rory, shouting questions about Shakespeare at her when she least expected it. Which was funny, until the morning at the bus stop she jumped and spilled her coffee all over Steve. (Bucky had run to Luke’s to get a new one before she got on the bus, though.)

And because Gilmores were not particularly well-known for their luck, of course they slept through the alarm the morning of the test. Rory left in a panic with Mom’s car, Mom went to work with Sookie, and Steve showed up ten minutes late to his own class in a shirt that really wasn’t his, considering it had ‘Sass Queen’ written on it in glittery pink letters. It was a very long day.

He was a little surprised to see Rory and Mom at Luke’s when he got out of school. He went over to the counter, desperate for coffee. “Give me the biggest cup of coffee you have,” he told Luke urgently.

Luke gave him a look, then raised his eyebrow at his shirt. “Can’t, your mother has it.”

“Second biggest?” he tried hopefully. Luke just stared at him, unimpressed. “Let me guess, Rory has it. Third biggest?” He batted his eyelashes at Luke a few times before the man sighed and poured him a cup of coffee, muttering about bad habits and stomach ulcers. “Thanks Luke!”

He plopped down on the third seat and beamed at Rory. “How’d the test go?”

Rory looked away. “I didn’t take it?”

“What?”

“I was late, they wouldn’t allow me to take it.”

“Mom, I can I borrow the car? I need to go over to Chilton and shout at some people.” For some reason, this cracked Mom and Rory up.

“Don’t worry, hon,” Mom said when she was done laughing. “Mommy already took care of that. And Rory too. They don’t need proof the entire family is prone to outbursts.”

Steve frowned. “Rory? Rory had an outburst?” He poked his sister, just to see if she was real. “This Rory?”

Rory rolled her eyes. “It was really stressful, okay. First I got hit by a deer-”

“You hit a deer?”

“No, I got hit _by_ a deer. And then I was late and they wouldn’t let me take the test so I just… wigged out a little. I shouted at Paris and Tristan, too.” She looked kind of ashamed, which was just ridiculous. If anyone deserved to be shouted at, it was those two jerks. Steve wanted to shout at them and he hadn’t even met them.

“Well, good,” Steve decided. “They deserve it. I’m very proud. Soon you’ll be getting into fistfights behind the bleachers, like your brother.”

“Steve.”

“Coming home with black eyes, bloody knuckles.”

“Steve, no.”

“You’d look great with some blue streaks in your hair, you know. We can punk up your uniform a bit, I’ve got some buttons and safety pins... ”

“It was a one-time thing,” Rory said, exasperated.

Mom grinned. “Besides, I’m pretty sure Rory could take Paris,” she said, because she was a great parent with all the faith in the world in her children. “So no black eyes for her.”

“I dunno, Paris probably fights dirty,” Rory said, finally given in. Steve grinned as the conversation quickly devolved into who Rory could and could not probably beat up.

-

They had all agreed not to mention the whole test-deer-shouting fiasco to the grandparents. They’d even made a list of other topics to discuss on the way over, ranging from the state of the economy to if a group of rabbits was really called a ‘fluffle’.

It didn’t quite go that way. He had the bingo card Mom made balanced on his knee under the table. He’d won two breakfasts at Luke’s already, though Mom had told him he was cheating because he’d deliberately confused Grandpa last time. (He totally had. He’d been so close to bingo and he really wanted to go for waffles the next day.)

But instead of gritting his teeth and crossing stuff off and being generally unhelpful, Grandma turned to him and asked him what his plans for the weekend were. Maybe Mom talked to them about leaving him out. Maybe she was tired of him winning bingo and getting off easy every week.

“Oh, uh, I’m working on a poster for the Halloween pumpkin carving contest in the town square and on Sunday Bucky and I are going to the movies.” Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Mom make a face. Clearly he’d set off some invisible Grandma landmine.

“Bucky? What kind of a name is Bucky?” Grandma asked. Oh, there it was.

“It’s a nickname, Grandma.” He wondered if it would be better or worse to explain it came from Buchanan.

Before he could decide, Grandma scoffed. “It sounds like the name of a hooligan.”

“My boyfriend is not a hooligan.”

There was an awkward pause. Mom was wearing her ‘abort mission’ expression, eyes wide and shaking her head just the tiniest bit. Sadly, and this was really all her fault anyway for making Grandma talk to him and passing on her tendency to ramble to her son, Steve kept talking.

“By the way, I’m bi.” Well, queer. Maybe pan. He still wasn’t quite sure what to call it, except that he liked girls and guys and he was so, so in love with Bucky. From the look on Grandma’s face, he didn’t think she’d enjoy an in-depth discussion on labels, sexual and romantic identities, and her grandson’s love life, though. “I have a boyfriend. Who is a boy. A nice boy. Who is not a hooligan in any way.”

Grandma scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Steve frowned. “I’m not, Bucky is great.” He looked at Rory, who was sporting less of an ‘abort mission’ look and more a ‘deer in headlights’ look.

“Yeah,” she offered. “We’ve known him since he was six. He’s a really nice guy, Grandma.”

“So you’re just good friends,” Grandma concluded, looking very pleased with herself, like the world had righted itself once again.

“Good friends who are dating,” Steve said slowly, as if that would make it sink in. 

“Steve, just because you haven’t found the right girl yet…”

“Excuse me?” Steve said, pushing back his chair. His bingo card and pen fell to the ground, forgotten. Well, there wasn’t a ‘homophobic’ square on there anyway. “I don’t need to find the right girl, I’ve found the right guy.” His voice was getting louder, but he couldn’t help it. He’d been good for Rory and gritted his teeth instead of arguing or pointing out something was sexist. Most of the time, anyway. But this was his life. This was his personhood.

“Steve, sit back down.” Grandpa was frowning at him. Obviously, standing up for yourself at the dinner table was frowned upon.

“Why, so you can tell me my relationship is just a phase? Or maybe suggest a nice pray-away-the-gay camp?”

“Now you’re just being overly dramatic,” Grandma huffed.

“Overly dramatic? You just told me I was dating Bucky because I hadn’t found the right girl yet.”

“You’re too young to know for sure-”

“Too young to know I’m queer? That I love Bucky?” Okay, he was actually kind of yelling now. “Was Mom too young to know she was straight at sixteen? Are you going to interrogate Rory to see if she’s sure she’s not actually a lesbian?”

“Young man, you stop raising your voice right-”

“No!” Steve shouted. “I will not stop raising my voice. I love my boyfriend and I know who I am and I’m not going to let you talk to me like this.” He shoved his chair back and stormed out the room, past a startled maid and out the door. It was cold outside, but he sure as hell wasn’t going back for his coat. He ran his hands through his hair, taking deep, shuddering breaths. The last thing he needed right now was an asthma attack (his bag with his inhaler was still inside too).

Shit. So much for not making a scene. But he couldn’t let them walk all over him, not about that. He could take all the comments about his hair and his clothes and his grades and his stupid black eyes and bad jokes and ‘radical’ opinions. But they did not get to tell him that what he felt for Bucky wasn’t real.

Another shuddery breath in and out. He wasn’t sure if he was shaking with anger, leftover adrenaline from the fight, or the fact that it was really fucking cold out here. Thankfully, the back door of the car was open. He climbed in, curling up in the back seat. There was a slightly musty blanket lying on the floor of the car. Steve pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped the blanket around himself.

What if he’d messed things up for Rory? What if Grandma insisted on Steve apologising or she wouldn’t pay for Chilton? What if they tried to force him back into the closet? He wasn’t doing it. He couldn’t do it. He’d barely even been in the closet. Hell, he was pretty sure Miss Patty had known Steve was in love with Bucky before Steve did. Come to think of it, he was pretty sure most of Stars Hollow had known before Steve did.

The front door opened, and Steve sunk further down in his seat. He wondered if he could just hide under the blanket and could pretend he wasn’t there, like when he was little and didn’t want to go to school.

It was Rory. She had on her coat, and by the looks of it, she was carrying his coat and messenger bag. She slipped into the back of the car as well, instead of her usual seat up front with Mom. (Steve had lost his shotgun privileges in a bet with Rory when they were twelve.)

“Hey.”

“I’m not going back inside,” he said gruffly. Rory tugged the blanket away so she could steal half of it, tucking his coat over his knees.

“I know. Mom’ll be out in a minute, she wasn’t done shouting at Grandma and Grandpa yet.” Rory sounded calm, so there probably hadn’t been any ultimatums made. Yet. He wasn’t sure what he’d do if they threatened her future. (Yes he was. He’d do anything for Rory and they all knew it.)

“Sorry I made us miss dessert,” Steve muttered after a long silence. He’d been trying to see if he could hear Mom shouting, but all he could hear was the rustling of his coat and Rory’s breathing next to him.

“Oh!” Rory perked up, before fishing something out of her pocket. She presented him with a slightly squashed piece of chocolate cake. “I grabbed it on the way out.”

He chuckled and broke off a chunk, nibbling on it. He wasn’t actually hungry though, his stomach roiling like there was a storm brewing inside him, threatening to choke him. He curled up more, making himself smaller, and leaned into Rory. Thankfully, Rory didn’t say anything, just wrapped an arm around him and waited with him until Mom would come outside.

-

The week after was pretty weird. He’d gone straight up to bed when they got home, and while Mom had totally snuck in when she thought he was asleep and had stroked his hair, they hadn’t bothered him that night. She’d given him a really long hug in the morning, though, and had promised that if they didn’t come around and apologise, he didn’t have to go to dinner. Then she’d taken him and Rory to Luke’s.

Apparently, Rory had filled Bucky in, because as soon as he came through the door the guy grabbed his face and kissed him for so long Miss Patty started applauding. Luke made them chocolate chip pancakes, so that was pretty nice. And Bucky sat really close to him and then came back home with them for a movie marathon and cuddling on the couch.

He nearly got into three fights with Grant. One of them was stopped by Bucky, another by a teacher, and a third by Skye, who pulled him away by his ear before things could escalate. He would be ashamed of the fact that a tiny freshman was seen dragging him by the ear for three hallways, but everyone knew Skye was kind of a badass. She told him to work out his issues in a way that didn’t involve getting punched in the face and poked him in the chest a few times before storming off. Steve had to admit that maybe there were better ways to deal with his anger. He decided that drinking five cups of coffee and angrily doing his chemistry homework would probably be a smarter idea.

On Wednesday, he had what was probably the most awkward phone conversation in his life. Worse than the time he had to call mom to say he was arrested, worse than the time he’d tried to call the Inn from the nurses office with a cold that made his voice sound so off Michel thought he was mocking him. Rory picked up the phone, and as soon as he heard her say ‘Grandma’, he started shaking his head, but of course she just said ‘sure, he’s here’. He tried to make a break for it upstairs, but Rory blocked his path, wrestled him to the floor and sat on his back while she held the phone to his ear so he couldn’t get away.

“Steve.”

“Grandma.” He tried to kick Rory, but after sixteen years of being his twin sister, she knew exactly how far the reach of his legs was when she was sat on top of him.

“I’d like to apologise for the way things got out of hand last Friday.”

“Uhuh.” He grunted, twisting when Rory poked him in the side.

“Things were said that shouldn’t have been.”

“Sure, like the part where you said I wasn’t in love with my boyfriend, I just hadn’t found the right girl yet.” He knew Mom told Grandma to apologise or… well, he wasn’t sure. He wouldn’t have to go, in any case. He’d kind of been hoping for at least a week or two of Friday nights off before she cracked.

“I’m sure you and… Bucky… are very happy together.”

“Yep, very happy. Joyous. We just have a gay old time.”

“Steve,” Rory warned.

“I hope you’ll accept my apology and come to Friday Night Dinner this week,” Grandma said, years of experience in ignoring her daughter being put to use.

On top of him, Rory poked a warning finger in his back before he could say ‘what apology’.

“Sure, whatever,” he sighed. He knew how important this was for Rory, but he’ll make sure Mom knows he’s only going back if they don’t say another word about Bucky, his sexuality, or meeting any type of girl.

Rory quickly took back the phone before Grandma could lecture him on his manners, because she was a good and smart sister who knew when to stop trying to make her brother be polite. She got off of him, walking back towards the kitchen while Steve tried to decide if it was worth it to get up and get some coffee or not, now that he couldn’t go to Bucky’s on Friday. Maybe he should just wallow on the floor some more. Thankfully, he didn’t have to decide, because Rory came back and placed a cup of coffee next to his head before patting it.

“You suck, but thank you,” Steve told her shoes.

“You’re welcome,” Rory beamed.

-

When Cinnamon died, it was like the whole town came to the wake. Steve had been there since the afternoon, and he looked suitably emotional. It was mostly allergies, but he didn’t tell Babette and Morey that. He’d liked Cinnamon, even though he couldn’t get close to her without sneezing. Some of his very first life drawings had been of that cat, lazing around the yard or in a window.

He’d slipped away to grab some extra tissues, swap his contacts for his glasses and find his allergy nose spray – the cat might be gone, but her legacy of making Steve’s eyes itch and making him sneeze would live on for some time.

He’d also dug out a portrait he’d done of Cinnamon a few months back. She’d been sitting in the open window while Morey played the piano, so he’d sat in his own window to drawn the scene. When he gave the drawing to Morey and Babette, he was nearly crushed in a hug from both of them. He offered them both a tissue and gotten another hug.

Bucky had come over after he got out of work to pay his respects, and had taken one look at Steve in his glasses, red eyes and red nose, and pulled him outside. “I know it’s very sad, but either you’re taking this much harder than literally everyone here including Babette and Morey, or you really need some fresh air.”

Steve sniffled, then blew his nose. “I’m a sensitive artist, you know.”

“You’re an allergic artist,” Bucky said, crowding Steve against the porch rail and kissing him. Ridiculously, Bucky had a thing for Steve in his giant, dorky glasses. Steve was pretty sure it was a jock-nerd fantasy thing. He usually only wore them in the evening or when he was sick these days. When he was twelve and had come home with broken glasses after a fight for the third time in two months, Mom had finally given up and suggested contact lenses. He’d been iffy about it at first, putting his finger in his eye, but Rory had made a pro-con list for him and had won him over.

They sat on the porch steps, watching people come and go. Steve leaned into Bucky, back against his chest, giving polite nods to everyone and sometimes making small talk. The floppy-haired new kid came by to bring drinks. After a while, Bucky nudged Steve. “There’s a guy on your porch.” Steve looked over, frowning.

“Some kind of door-to-door salesman?” he guessed. He wasn’t from town, that was for sure. But he wasn’t carrying anything either.

“Maybe he’s a burglar,” Bucky said, leaning his chin on Steve’s shoulder.

“Burglars don’t knock, Buck.”

“They might in Stars Hollow.” Bucky shrugged at the look Steve gave him. “What? This is a really weird town, Stevie. Besides, what better way to check if your victims are home or not.” 

Mom passed them on the stairs, calling ‘I’ll explain later’ over her shoulder at Steve. She looked kind of panicked as she went to talk to the probably-not-a-burglar. Steve frowned.

“Maybe he’s some kind of date?” he guessed. Though why Mom would be freaked out about that was a mystery to Steve. She’d dated before.

“Well, he’s not ugly,” Bucky said. They took a moment to take stock of Mister not-a-burglar. “He has a nice nose.”

“You just called him a burglar,” Steve pointed out, mostly because Bucky wasn’t wrong about the guy not being ugly. It was not okay to judge your mother’s dates on hotness.

“Burglars can be handsome,” Bucky said defensively. “I’m just saying, way to go Lorelai for bagging the hot guy.”

Mom came back over. “Have you two seen Rory?” she asked. Steve shook his head.

“I think she’s still inside. Who’s the guy?” he asked.

“I’ll explain later, I really need to talk to Rory first,” Mom said, looking worried. “Just keep an eye out for her, okay?” Steve nodded. Maybe it was getting serious and she wanted him and Rory to meet the guy? Usually Mom at least mentioned if she was dating someone, if not by name, by vague nicknames at least. Or nicknames on why she wasn’t going to go on another date, like House-Full-Of-Ferrets-Guy.

A while after Mom went inside, Rory came by. “Hey, Mom’s looking for you,” Steve said. Rory sat next to them in a huff. “What’s got everyone so wigged out? Is it about the guy on the porch?”

“He was handsome,” Bucky added. “Nice nose. Great car.”

“He’s my teacher!” Rory blurted out. “The guy on the porch was Mister Medina.”

“Wait, the jerk who wouldn’t let you take the test?” Steve frowned. Why would Mom be dating that jerk? He’d given Rory a D.

“He was doing his job,” Rory said, because she was an angel who couldn’t hold a decent grudge. “Besides, he let me make up for it. He’s a good teacher.”

“Good enough to French kiss our mother?”

“Steve, gross.” Rory made a face. “I have class with him tomorrow. That’s what makes it so weird! Why wouldn’t she tell us? Why would she date him?”

“Because he’s kinda hot?” Bucky said. Steve elbowed him in the ribs. “Sorry, not helpful. She was looking for you, though, she obviously wants to talk.”

Rory got up. “I’m going to find her,” she said decisively, before striding off. Steve sighed.

“Should I go after her?” he asked Bucky, leaning back against him more. He wasn’t really sure what to think about the whole thing. If Mom would date his English teacher, he would be a little weirded out too (not in the least because Mrs Jones was already married and in her late sixties, but still).

Bucky wrapped his arms around Steve. “I think you should let them talk it out first. What do you think about the whole thing?”

Steve sighed. “I guess if Rory is okay with it, I’m okay with it. It’s not like it’s my place to decide who Mom dates or not.” He’d made her a list of suggestions when he was eleven (including but not limited to ‘that guy who works at the garage and has a cool motorcycle and a dog’, ‘that guy who works at the hardware store in the paint section’, Luke, and Bucky’s uncle because then they could all celebrate Christmas together) that hadn’t gone over really well. “It’s still weird, though.”

“Mmmyeah,” Bucky agreed, snuggling closer. “He still has a nice nose, though.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates from now on will be bi-weekly, so I can keep up with the writing. The chapters keep getting longer!
> 
> You can find me on tumblr [here](http://innytoes.tumblr.com/).


	4. Of post-its, birthdays, and outbursts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which birthdays are celebrated (twice), the twins ruin their party (both), and they get a do-over (which is awesome).

“Your grandfather and I thought it might be nice after dinner for the two of you to go around the house and pick out what you'd like us to leave you in our wills.”

Friday night dinners had a particular brand of weirdness that Steve just couldn’t explain to Bucky. It wasn’t that Bucky didn’t believe him, but sometimes the look on his boyfriend’s face was one of such bewilderment that Steve would backtrack and realise, yup, what he was saying was super weird. Steve had a feeling that this was going to be another one of those moments.

Bucky was usually waiting for them on the porch on Friday night (he’d taken to it after the disastrous evening where Steve had come out). If Steve was particularly angry at something horrible his grandparents had said – something about Mom, or some horribly classist statement that seemed to ignore not everyone had a mansion or rich grandparents to pay for their tuition – Bucky would take him on a walk around the block and let him rant, holding his hand while Steve gesticulated wildly with the other one to make his point. He was pretty sure Mom and Rory were so grateful to be spared the rants that Mom had extended their curfew on Fridays just so Steve would have everything out of his system by the time he got home.

He could just picture the look on Bucky’s face while they were walking. ‘Well Buck, today I put post-its on some furniture that cost more than our entire two houses put together to call dibs on them so I can get them after my grandparents die. I think the antique leather Victorian chair will look lovely next to my thrift store shelf, don’t you?’

After dinner, they each received a stack of post-its, a pen, and were sent on their merry way. They went to take a look at Grandpa’s desk, which he kind of insisted on.

“It’s nice,” Steve told Rory. “You’d look very fancy behind it, writing some kind of important journalistic article about some kind of important world event.”

“Don’t you want it?” Rory asked. “It’s so big and sturdy, great for painting.”

Steve paused. He tried to imagine the desk in his room, or in the starving artist loft he always pictured himself living in when he grew up. Then he thought about the way his current desk looked, covered in streaks of paint, splatters of ink and cuts and gashes from when he’d been cutting out a stencil but couldn’t find any of his cutting boards. “I think if I used this desk the way I use my desk now, Grandma and Grandpa would come back from the dead to haunt me for all eternity.”

Rory paused for a moment, considering. “And then nobody would come visit you, because of the judgemental ghosts in your studio space.”

“Exactly.”

They drifted apart. Steve couldn’t help but write a post-it that said ‘Just give all these to Rory’ and stick it on every shelf full of books he came across. He paused before sneaking up the stairs to the painting he liked, quickly scribbling his name down and carefully putting the post-it on the frame, where it wouldn’t damage the paint.

“Ah, you like the painting,” Grandpa said behind him, and Steve jerked his hand away so fast he nearly knocked over a vase. (At least it didn’t have a post-it on it.) “A very good piece, this. It was passed down by my great-great-grandfather.”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed awkwardly. “I like the composition. The way the focus is on the chess players, but when you look at it longer, there’s so much else going on, like the cat about to pounce the mouse under that table to the side.”

Grandpa frowned, then looked closer. “You know, in all these years, I’ve never noticed that cat before,” he said. “You certainly have an eye for art.”

Steve shrugged. He’d spent a lot of time in bed as a kid, where he couldn’t do much. Rory had brought him books, but he couldn’t read for long periods of times, so after a while, she’d taken to bringing him books about art from the library. That way, if his head started to hurt from reading, he could just look at the pictures.

He wanted to say something about how they always joked that mom, who is so cool, ended up with two little nerds, but it felts too intimate, too much like an invitation to say something bad about his mother. Instead, he turned back to the painting and said: “I think it’s an allegory. You know, the chess game is pretty far along, what with all the pieces next to the board. And the one player is slouched in his seat while the other looks all confident, like he’s about to make his move, or, y’know, pounce, like the cat.”

Grandpa seemed to consider that, thoughtful. “I think you’re right. You know, Rory told me the three of you wanted to backpack through Europe, go see the sights. I’m guessing the great museums are on the list as well?”

Steve grinned. “We’ve already made a deal that they’re just dumping me at the Amsterdam Rijksmuseum for like a day or two so I can stare at the Rembrandts while they go see other sights.”

Grandpa smiled. “One can’t take too much time in a museum. Have you seen the painting in the west corridor? I think you’d like it…”

By the time he made it back downstairs, he had his post-its stuck on three other paintings, a side table, two statues, a comfy chair, a lamp, and a giant desk. Even after he’d warned Grandpa about what happened to desks in Steve Gilmore’s possession. (“Your grandmother bought it, I never liked it much anyway. I think some paint smudges would only improve it.”) It was the first normal, pleasant conversation he’d had with either of his grandparents in probably ten years.

Rory grinned at him. “You look pleased,” she said, looking between him and Grandpa.

“Yeah well, I twisted his arm until he showed me where the safe with the priceless jewels was and then put a post-it on it,” Steve said. The startled laugh Grandpa gave was not on any bingo card, but Steve was pretty sure he was going to aim to hear it more often anyway.

-

At 5:15 in the morning, like every other 5:15 on his birthday Steve could remember, the door to his bedroom opened and Rory stumbled in, faceplanting on his bed. “Your turn,” she mumbled, before curling up and stealing one of his blankets. Steve drew up his legs to give her more room, rolling his eyes when Mom lay down on the other side of the bed, putting her arm around him. “Happy birthday,” she whispered.

“It’s too early,” Steve whined, hiding his face in her shoulder. “Couldn’t you have had us at like, ten?”

“So she could show up at school to do this?” Rory asked.

“Good point,” Steve conceded. “Do I look older?”

Mom looked at him. “Yes, you can buy Mommy her booze now without worrying about getting carded.” He grinned. “What do you think of your life so far?”

“If the whole ‘mosquitos’ thing could go away, that would be pretty awesome.”

Mom nodded. “I’ll make a note of that.” She was quiet for a moment, and Steve almost thought he could go back to sleep, but she started talking again. “You are an amazing kid, you know that?” At least it was good things. He hummed, hoping that would be enough for now.

“I can’t believe it was sixteen years ago that I was lying exactly like this…” she started. Rory groaned, grabbing one of Steve’s pillows to cover her head.

“… with a huge fat stomach and big, swollen ankles. And Rory was crying and covered in goo…”

“Ew,” Steve said, squeezing his eyes shut tighter.

“And I was swearing like a sailor…”

“On leave,” Steve and Rory both chimed in.

“On leave, exactly! And there I was…”

-

They were walking to Lane’s when Rory turned to him, face serious. “We need to talk.”

“Did you forget my birthday again?” Steve grinned, but her face only went more serious and pouty. “What’s up?”

“Grandma and Grandpa sent out really fancy invitations to everyone in my class.” She pulled out a slightly crumpled piece of paper. Steve opened it. Nice font, fancy paper, good layout. He squinted.

“Am I imagining it, or is ‘Steve Roger’ a lot smaller than ‘Lorelai Leigh’?” he asked.

“Steve! That’s not the point.” Rory said, frustrated. He huffed. Maybe not for Rory. Nobody in _his_ class had gotten a fancy invitation, or any invitation for that matter. Hell, none of his other friends had either. Of course, his friends weren’t fancy Chilton people. “Grandma invited everyone in my class. People were complaining that their parents are making them go. The entire party will be filled with stupid kids from school that I don’t know or don’t like, and who don’t like me.”

Steve frowned. “That does suck. Why didn’t you tell Mom? Because of the pudding and the shopping?” Rory nodded. Typical, that she didn’t want to ruin Mom’s good mood. Steve, on the other hand, was more than willing to ruin anyone’s mood if it meant getting Rory out of this. “You want me to tell her? Or talk to Grandma for you?”

“No,” Rory sulked.

“Want me to fake injury right before the party so we have to go to the emergency room? I can pretend to choke on a peanut or something.”

“No.”

“Want me to be on my best behaviour and keep away Paris and all the other jerks while you hide upstairs?”

“Maybe,” Rory conceded. They picked up Lane at her house, with a hug for Rory and a hand-shake at arm’s length for Steve (Mrs Kim watching through the window, and it had been many, many years before they’d gotten approval for a handshake). Steve trailed behind Lane and Rory, worrying his lip. He didn’t want to make a bad impression and give Rory’s snotty, rich classmates something to harass her over. He’d have to make sure not to get in any fights today. Maybe he should ask Skye to drag him away by his ear whenever he looked like someone was about to start something. She’d probably get a kick out of that.

At the diner, Luke scowled at them until they turned around and sat at the right table, which had colourful balloons that said ‘Happy birthday Rory’ and ‘Happy Birthday Steve’ on them. Bucky was already sitting there, eyeing the coffee cake hungrily. Steve beamed and planted himself on Bucky’s lap. Luke groused something about no PDA in the diner and health code violations, but Steve just pouted and said ‘but it’s my birthday’ and he was off the hook. Even when he fed Bucky a piece of cake with his fingers. Birthdays were awesome for getting away with stuff.

They ate the cake and discussed the party. Bucky seemed insulted on Steve’s behalf that his friends – and Lane, for that matter – weren’t invited, but when Steve suggested they should come and crash the party, Bucky and Lane both backed off immediately. Steve didn’t actually blame them, because if he and Rory could get out of it, they probably wouldn’t go either. Well, Steve wouldn’t.

-

He spent most of the day fretting about the party. He told Skye about the real party on Saturday and she promised she’d come (especially after he told her Sookie was making the food). Bucky walked him home and kissed him for a long time until Steve had to push him out the door so he wouldn’t be late picking up his sisters.

He went upstairs and took a breath before heading to the bathroom. By the time he was done, Mom was home, shouting at him to hurry up or they’d be late picking Rory up. When he came out of the bathroom, Mom peered out the door of her room and stared at him.

“You look like you belong in a boy band,” she said, confused. Steve winced. Bleaching the blue streaks out of his hair had given him the appearance of highlights, yeah. He wanted to tell Mom it was because he didn’t want Rory’s classmates to give her a hard time over her punk brother, but he’d promised Rory not to tell. So instead, he shrugged. “I was gonna dye it another colour, but I don’t think we have time before we go,” he said. Then, because it wasn’t really a lie and it was a very believable reason as to why he didn’t have time: “Bucky walked me home.”

Mom grinned. “Alright. Go put on your fancy clothes. I fixed them a bit so you don’t look like grandpa.” Steve smiled back. The dresses had been a piece of cake for Mom, but trying to turn a boring three piece suit into something not-dowdy was a bit harder. They’d finally decided to give up on the jacket and just keep the vest. With a little tailoring and some safety pins and buttons from his bag, he looked less like a waiter or an accountant and more like… well, like one of those models from a catalogue trying too hard to look like some kind of old-school punk, but it was still better than what they started with.

Rory just raised her eyebrows at him when she saw his hair, but Grandma looked incredibly pleased with herself. At least until he and Mom took off their coats.

The party was kind of dull and the food all smelled weird. He’d snuck into the kitchen to grab some grapes (and smile sheepishly at the maid of the month, who at least looked like she understood). When he came out, Grandpa introduced him to some of his business-friends. He got a bunch of envelopes, which he accepted with a polite nod and shoved in his back pocket. He hoped there was cash in there, at least, and not like, rich people birthday cards. Then, one of the guys said something about how nice it was that ‘Lorelai had given him a grandson, because at least there was someone to take over the business and the Gilmore name now’.

It was funny, in a way. He’d never really seen the resemblance between himself and his grandfather, but apparently he had inherited an exact copy of his ‘Rory is the best thing since sliced bread, fuck you very much’ look. Grandpa had put a hand on his shoulder and said something diplomatic while giving him a ‘ignore the idiot’ look (also not far from his own) before sending him off to find his grandmother.

When he found Grandma, it wasn’t much better. She was talking with an older lady and a girl about his age, who was wearing a ridiculously poofy dress. He wondered if she’d put it on voluntarily, or if she just didn’t have a tailor as good as Lorelai to fix the horrible clothing her guardians bought her.

“Steve, this is Kate Pryde, we’re on the board of the Hartford Symphony together.” Steve nodded politely. “And this is her granddaughter, Kitty.”

“We thought Kitty could use some cheering up,” Mrs Pryde said. “After her twit of a boyfriend dumped her last week. So we brought her to the party.”

“Grandma!” Kitty hissed. Steve winced, because yeah, ouch, way to betray your granddaughter’s trust while trying to set her up with the nice not-single boy.

“Steve doesn’t have a girlfriend yet,” Grandma said, all but shoving him at the poor girl. Her look was probably two-thirds horrified, one-third disdain. Well, Steve couldn’t really blame her. He wasn’t sure the look on his face was any better, honestly.

“No, but I have a b-”

“Steve, why don’t you show Kitty where the drinks are?” Grandma said, the silent ‘or else’ hanging over him. But there was politeness to guests and then there was that whole ‘denying grandson’s sexuality and relationship’ thing. Steve was pretty sure Miss Manners would be okay with him being rude in this case. For both his and Kitty’s sake.

“Actually, Grandma, I think I hear Mom calling me,” he said, quickly stepping away. “So sorry, it was lovely to meet you both, ma’am, Kitty.”

He did bump into Mom during his escape to quieter parts. “Where’s the bingo square for ‘grandma tries to set up her gay grandson with a girl’?” he asked her. Mom just handed him a soda and gave him a look of sympathy that promised a special breakfast at Luke’s.

In the hall, some annoying rich kid was harassing Rory. He was just about to step in when Grandpa arrived, who, annoyingly, just kind of made things worse before being called away by one of his business friends. Steve strode over, checking in and ready to make a scene. Rory looked both annoyed and grateful.

“Mom was asking for you,” he said, giving her an out. She took it, with a last annoyed ‘fuck you’ glance at Tristan.

“So,” the guy said. “I didn’t know Rory had a brother.” He looked down at Steve, standing a little straighter to get the whole ‘towering over someone’ effect. Very chest-thumpy, alpha-male posturing. Maybe rich bullies weren’t that different from every other kind of bully. Luckily, Steve had never been one to back down, no matter who the bully was.

“And I didn’t know Rory had a stalker,” Steve bit back.

“She likes me,” Tristan said, face growing more punchable by the second. “She just doesn’t know it yet.”

“She despises you and thinks your little cool guy act is pitiful,” Steve shot back. “Don’t you have some other girl to harass? Or do they all have restraining orders out on you already?”

“Now is that any way to talk to your future brother-in-law?” Tristan asked, putting a hand on Steve’s shoulder. Steve took a breath, because punching people was not part of the ‘best behaviour and not embarrassing Rory’ plan.

“Please, Rory has much better taste than some small-dicked little rich boy with no personality who thinks his daddy’s money will make him interesting to girls.”

“I like the protective brother bit,” Tristan said. “It makes sure Rory’s still nice and innocent by the time I-”

And okay, best behaviour plan out the window. He grabbed Tristan by the jacket, shoving him against the wall and leaning his knee on Tristan’s inner thigh, close enough to his sensitive bits to be a threat, and pretty painful in and of itself. (He’d have to thank Stan and the Badass Old Lady Squad down at the retirement home for the tip.) “Listen you little punk, you stay the fuck away from my sister or all the money in the world won’t be able to help you.”

And boy, was it him or had it become awfully quiet all of a sudden? He gave one last shove and moved away, doing his best to calmly walk up the stairs. He was a little surprised to find Rory in Mom’s old room as well, but not too much.

“Hey. I assaulted one of your classmates and swore in front of a gaggle of old ladies,” he said, scooting on the bed next to her.

She looked at him sideways. “Which one?”

“Tristan.”

“That’s okay then,” Rory decided.

They sat in silence for a while.

“I shouted at Grandma about this being her party when she tried to make me give a speech.”

Steve laughed. “What were you going to say?” He sat up and gave his best Rory impression. “Dear strangers, business partners, and kids who I either don’t know or dislike. Thank you for coming over to annoy me. Please eat the smelly food so we don’t have to take it home with us. Please leave your envelopes full of cash at the door and don’t let it hit your ass on the way out.”

Rory rolled her eyes. “I do not sound like that.”

“No, you wouldn’t say ass. Cheer up, at least Grandma didn’t try to set you up with a nice young recently dumped society girl.”

“ _No_ , really?” Rory said, surprised and far too gleeful for Steve’s taste.

“Some poor girl in a ridiculous dress. Her grandmother was right there telling me how she’d just been dumped, and then Grandma suggested I, I dunno, show her around and then fall madly in love with her through awkward small-talk.”

“Ouch. I guess things could be worse.” Rory made a face.

“Well, you know, you’re not of marriageable age yet,” Steve said, grinning. “Maybe they’re saving that for next year.”

“Oh, shut up, you ass.”

-

Grandma was particularly icy when they left. Rory was still feeling bad about her not-that-bad behaviour and tried to apologise twice, but Grandma wouldn’t hear it. Steve kept quiet, mostly because he couldn’t think of anything better to say than ‘stop being mean to Rory after she very rightly told you the truth about your dumb party’.

Grandpa came over and handed them both a ‘little extra something’. He and Rory had both gotten their gifts before the guests had arrived. He understood now why Mom had been so excited, they were actually pretty nice presents. Grandma had looked so proud when she’d shown Rory how her bracelet lit up when you shook it.

She’d gotten Steve a backpack shaped like Captain America’s shield, which had sent Mom off on a story about how Grandma had first thought it was ‘some kind of punk thing’ because she’s seen a Cap-pin on his bag, and then had been shocked that Steve had been named after ‘a cartoon character’ before learning that the whole ‘Steve Roger’ thing was a coincidence. He’d looked at Mom then, but apparently she hadn’t told Grandma the part of the story where he’d been named Steve Roger after the male nurse who’d snuck a cheeseburger into the hospital for her. She’d promised to name her firstborn after him, only, Rory was the firstborn, and a girl, so he’d had to settle for the second-born.

None of that jolliness was anywhere to be found now, though. The icy silence and cold shoulder were pretty obvious as Grandma all but pushed them out the door. He’d hidden his wince when Rory, in a desperate attempt to make things better, invited Grandma to the real party tomorrow. Especially when Mom sent them outside to check on the gifts, which probably meant she was going to try and convince Grandma to come.

They went over to the car, helping the nice hired staff try to fit everything in the jeep and still leave enough room for three people. Pretty much all of the real gifts were for Rory. Steve didn’t particularly mind, considering they were probably mostly spite-gifts. He was kind of looking forward to seeing what kind of terrible things rich people gave people they didn’t like. They’d totally win the ‘worst white elephant gift’ competition at the Barnes house this Christmas, that was for sure.

And he’d gotten a bunch of envelopes from random rich people to put in his college-fund shoebox (and maybe some in his Europe-trip jar). Grandpa’s little envelope with his comment ‘for Rembrandt’ was also a nice little pick-me-up. What did he care that he was really only an afterthought to Grandma’s fancy rich people party? The real party tomorrow was going to be much better.

Or it would be, if Rory could stop looking like someone kicked her puppy. He sighed, giving up on trying to fit a box into the seat next to him and telling the guy helping him ‘just put it on the floor, I’ll sit with my feet up’ before slipping out of the car.

“Hey, relax. I’m sure this whole thing will blow over and next week, she’ll have forgotten all about it.” He bumped his shoulder against Rory’s gently.

“She was really mad, though,” Rory said, looking back at the house. “She would barely look at me.”

“So her ego’s been hurt, big deal. Mom’s probably shouting at her right now for being such a jerk to you.” If Grandma was still being rude to Rory next week, _he_ was going to shout at her. “You apologised, what more does she want? Maybe this way, she’ll learn not to throw stupid parties and invite jerks without asking you. You know, like when you shout at a toddler about not touching the stove.”

“Did you just compare Grandma to a toddler?” Rory gave him a look.

“Would you prefer an analogy of scolding a puppy because it chewed up your shoes?”

“No,” Rory said immediately. They watched the guy shove in the last of the gifts. Steve was pretty sure he was going to have to curl up like a pretzel in the back seat. Still, he gave the guy a thumbs up. “Hey, thanks for shoving Tristan for me.”

“Thanks for shouting at Grandma so I wasn’t the only one who looked bad,” Steve countered.

“At least I didn’t use any swear words,” Rory said.

“Well, I have to do something to keep up my reputation as the bad twin,” Steve said, sighing. “Come on, help me fold myself into the tiny space in the back of the car.”

-

The next morning, he slouched down the stairs, still in his pyjamas (cavorting cartoon puppies on his pyjama pants and a Captain America t-shirt). His hair was still covered in dye, towel worn over his shoulders like a superhero cape. For some reason, Bucky was standing on a chair, putting up the streamers while Mom bossed him around.

“Little more to the right… oh Steve! Come sit here tell me if those streamers should go higher.” Mom waved him over, waggling a fresh cup of coffee. He slumped on the couch next to her, careful not to lean back too far and have his hair touch the couch. He took a good, long sip of coffee while contemplating the relative height of the streamers, the nice view of Bucky in those jeans, and the way his shirt was riding up a little, showing off a strip of skin on his back.

“Definitely higher,” he decided, and was rewarded by Bucky stretching higher, shirt riding up more. “You know, I’d lecture you about putting my poor boyfriend to work first thing in the morning, but the view is so nice I’ll forgo the lecture.”

Mom winked at him. “All part of my master plan. So, what colour is that?”

“It’s called ‘Eff You Fuchsia’,” Steve told her. And, okay, at least half of the reason he’d picked it was the name.

“Appropriate,” Mom said.

“I thought so,” Steve agreed. They watched Bucky work for a while longer, before Steve’s timer went off. “I need to go rinse this out.” He hopped up and pulled Bucky down from his stool to give him a kiss. “Be right back.”

The day of the party was great. Sookie made breakfast, Rory went to be weird and get her eighty-fourth Harvard pamphlet, and he and Bucky spent the day decorating for the party, running errands, and talking. Bucky didn’t look very surprised that Steve had started a fight (and agreed Tristan had it coming), but he was surprised at the unsubtle matchmaking.

“So they just sprang a girl on you?” he asked, shocked.

“More like sprang me on that poor girl,” Steve said, smiling when Bucky pulled him in closer. “Shut up, I’m not putting myself down, but I was so not her type.”

“The having a boyfriend thing probably didn’t help,” Bucky agreed, pulling Steve to a stop to give him a firm kiss, like he was making a point.

“They didn’t even let me get the words out,” Steve complained, tugging Bucky along again by his hand. “It was just ‘oh Kitty, meet Steve, he doesn’t have a girlfriend. Steve, meet this nice girl that was just dumped, she’s rich and pretty and you will make beautiful babies together’.”

“She said that?”

“It was implied,” Steve groused while Bucky laughed at him. It wasn’t that Steve wanted him to be jealous or anything, but laughing at his boyfriend for being set up with a girl was not cool. Especially not on his do-over-birthday. He was about to tell Bucky just that when Bucky pulled him into a shop that wasn’t on the list of errands. Not that he ever minded going into the art shop Bucky’s mom worked at. In fact, he liked it so much, Winnie had started threatening that he wasn’t allowed in without ‘proper supervision’, so he wouldn’t try to buy the entire shop.

“Is my birthday present that you’re going to watch me browse the art shop for an hour without complaining?” he asked, grinning. That would be a good present.

“No, but we can do that after I give you your present,” Bucky grinned, leading him to the register. “Mom, we’re here for Steve’s present.”

Winifred beamed at them, looking up from her work. “Hello, boys. Happy birthday, Steve.”

“Thanks, Winnie,” Steve said, smiling. He loved Bucky’s mom. She was pretty much a second mom to him, especially once Lorelai and Winifred had met and become friends. He’d gone to Winnie that winter when he’d had pneumonia and the potting shed was too cold and the Inn was booked solid. Winnie was his and Rory’s second emergency contact number at school, the only phone number he knew by heart besides his own. Lorelai called her their ‘back-up mother’. Though lately, she and Winnie had taken to calling themselves the ‘mother-in-laws’, which was both embarrassing but made Steve feel warm inside.

“Now, this isn’t just from me. Mom and Dad and Becca, Grace, and Rose chipped in too,” Bucky said as Winnie pulled something out from under the counter.

“Rose? Bucky, Rose is five.”

“She gave me a button she found outside and insisted it was worth at least a five dollars,” Bucky grinned. “I couldn’t argue with that.”

“Well, she’s probably right, nice buttons are expensiv- oh my god why is it so _big_?” Steve said as Winnie placed a giant wrapped present on the counter.

“Open it!” Bucky urged, beaming.

“Bucky, this must have cost a fortune, I can’t accept this.”

“You haven’t even unwrapped it. Open it.”

“It’s obviously something big.”

“Maybe I wrapped a single brush in a giant box. Open. It.”

“Fine, fine.” Steve carefully loosened the bow and the tape, partly because he could probably use the wrapping paper in an art project later on, and partly to annoy Bucky. When he lifted up the tape, he saw a gorgeous wooden case. He looked back at Bucky, who was practically bouncing on his toes, then opened the box.

Rows and rows of gorgeous oil paints greeted him, in all different shades.

“Oh my god, Buck…”

“I know you mostly do watercolours and charcoal drawings, but you mentioned wanting to try oil paints before you went to college to expand your portfolio, and Mom checked with a bunch of artists and they all agreed that this was the best set around, and there’s brushes to go with it and I mean, if you want to get a canvas now you can pick one out and…” Steve cut him off before he ran out of air or did something else ridiculous, like offer to buy him the entire store.

“Buck, it’s perfect. It’s more than perfect.” He gave Bucky another kiss to wipe the relieved look off his face. “Are you sure it’s not too much money?” He looked back at Winifred, who was beaming at them. “Really, it’s too much, I would have just been happy with a new sketch book or… or something way, way less expensive.”

“Steve, dear, relax.” Winnie told him. “It’s from all of us, and we all like you, and Becca has already called dibs on your first portrait with oil paints.” She winked. “And I wouldn’t mind one of the other kids as well. Nice for the staircase.”

“Of course,” Steve nodded quickly.

“And make sure Bucky’s isn’t a full body nude. I mean, that’s classic and arty, but not so much for the staircase.”

“Mom!” Bucky shouted, flushing deep red. Steve laughed. “Right, we’re leaving right now.” He grabbed Steve’s present, hefting the bags with the other party supplies and bolting out the door.

Steve grinned. “See you tonight, Winnie!” he called as he followed Bucky out the door, jogging to keep up.

-

The party was great. Pretty much everyone they knew was there, the food was great, and there was a mountain of presents. He and Rory were wearing ridiculous feather boas, Rory wearing a headband that said ‘Happy Birthday’ in gold and Steve had a silver and blue tiara. He’d pretty much commandeered Bucky’s lap (and a corner of the sofa), opening his presents. Mom got them both a laptop, which was ridiculous and amazing. His oil paint set had a place of pride on the mantle, of course, and the fake ID Skye had slipped him was already hidden up in his room.

After presents, Sookie brought out the cake. It had oddly airbrushed versions of their faces on it, and they laughed as they blew out the candles and cut up each other’s heads. He called dibs on Rory’s ear while Rory decided she was going to eat Steve’s nose.

There was an eerie silence then, and when Steve looked up, Grandma and Grandpa were standing there, looking incredibly uncomfortable. Rory was thrilled, of course, jumping up to give them a hug. Steve wavered, then demonstrably sat down in Bucky’s lap again with his cake, giving a little wave with his fork. He wasn’t sure if Grandma’s disapproval was from the hair, the greeting, the boa, or the boy, but he revelled in it all the same, leaning back and giving Bucky a kiss. Bucky’s arm tightened around his waist, seemingly perfectly okay with rebellious kisses that tasted like cake.

Thankfully, Rory suggested Grandma try one of the snacks, and she went into the kitchen, probably to trick Sookie into becoming her personal chef or something. Grandpa busied himself with checking the bannister and the fireplace so he wouldn’t have to talk to people (Steve couldn’t really blame him, after Miss Patty’s flirting), before slipping outside.

“Wow, so those are the grandparents, huh?” Bucky asked, stealing a bite of Steve’s cake.

“Yeah.”

“They look…” Bucky paused, probably trying to find a polite way to say ‘like they’d rather be anywhere else and also kind of scary’.

“Imposing?” Steve suggested. “Entirely out of place? Like they just swallowed a lemon?”

“Rich.” Bucky finished.

“Well, that too.”

It was surprisingly normal, with Grandma there. Everyone started swapping stories about him and Rory when they were little and she just… sat there, listening. Winnie told the story about how Steve had decided at age six that Rory should marry Bucky so they could all live in a big house together with lots of dogs, until Rory had said she didn’t want to marry Bucky, so Steve had claimed ‘fine, then _I’ll_ marry Bucky and we can all live in a big house with lots of dogs’. Babette told the one about Rory and the fairy ring, and Miss Patty regaled everyone with both his and Rory’s terrible dance class history.

After a while, Grandma disappeared upstairs. Steve kind of hoped she wouldn’t peer in his room, it was a mess, but then decided he didn’t care. This was his house, he could do whatever he wanted. Like kiss his boyfriend until Becca and Grace said ‘ewww’ and started throwing balled up wrapping paper at them.

After the grandparents left (and wow, that was an awkward goodbye, but Rory dragged him outside for it), Mom and Rory started a food fight. Steve and Bucky escaped upstairs and out Steve’s window onto the roof after about ten minutes. It was great vantage point to watch the fight, which had moved out onto the lawn, and also not get dirty in the meantime. As the night wound down, Bucky looked over to him.

“You barely talked to your grandparents the entire time they were here.”

“Rory was the one who invited them.” Steve shrugged, plucking at the fraying fabric of the hole in his jeans. “In case you hadn’t noticed, they don’t really care for their queer punk grandson.”

“I noticed the in-your-face kissing,” Bucky admitted. “Not that I mind, but, you know. I’m not sure it’s going to make them accept it any quicker.”

“So?” Steve said, shoulders feeling like they were up around his ears. Bucky shuffled closer and put an arm around him, silent support. “I just… They’re never going to accept me for who I am, so why bother trying to play nice? I can borrow your grandparents, instead.”

“My grandparents send itchy sweaters for Christmas every year and call you Steven,” Bucky said, amused. They fell silent, looking on as Morey helpfully lifted Grace up so she could hit Andrew in the face with a piece of pie.

“The people who I care about accept me,” Steve added, more for himself than for Bucky, at this point. “Mom and Rory don’t care who I date or what colour my hair is. Your family loves me, itchy sweaters and all. Our friends don’t expect me to change who I am.” The town didn’t seem to mind either. At worst, he’d get comments about how a certain colour in his hair wasn’t as nice as the last one, or someone would roll their eyes if he brought up an issue at a town meeting.

“You forgot one thing,” Bucky said.

Steve frowned. “What?”

“I love you, you dumb punk.” Bucky grinned, kissing him.

“Jerk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me on tumblr [here](http://innytoes.tumblr.com/).


	5. Of boys, snow, and emergency pie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Gilmores have boy troubles, Emily bamboozles with bonbons, and Luke provides emergency pie.

“I come bearing gossip,” Bucky announced when he popped in Steve’s window one afternoon. Steve frowned. Usually Bucky only resorted to climbing up the side of the house when they were sneaking around. But it was the middle of the day, well before curfew, and he hadn’t done something that would get him in trouble in… at least a week. Probably.

“Is the gossip that you forgot how the front door works?” he asked, putting aside his math homework.

“I didn’t want to run into Rory,” Bucky said, slipping inside and closing the window again.

“She’s at the Thanksgiving food drive thing with Lane. Wait, you have gossip that concerns Rory?” Now he was interested. She had been pretty squirrely since when she came home yesterday. He’d asked her how her day had been and she’d babbled about how she was fine and nothing happened why do you ask, like he didn’t ask her every day.

“She and that Dean kid totally kissed,” Bucky said.

“What?” Steve blinked. He knew Rory had been talking to the floppy-haired new kid, but this seemed pretty sudden. “When? Where?”

“Yesterday in Doose’s Market,” Bucky told him. “Miss Patty told me.”

“You mean it’s all over town?” Of course it was all over town, it had happened in the middle of the market. Rory would be lucky if Taylor didn’t bring it up at the next town meeting under some kind of ‘no PDA near produce’ proposal. “She hasn’t said anything to me. Or to Mom.”

He kind of got the whole ‘don’t tell your overprotective twin brother who threatens to punch people at the drop of a hat’ thing, but not telling mom was just weird.

“Maybe she didn’t want it to be weird,” Bucky offered, like he didn’t know that everything in the Gilmore household was already weird and that they told each other everything anyway. Not telling each other things was way weirder.

“It can’t be weirder than my first kiss,” Steve grumbled. Which, yeah, bursting into the kitchen shouting ‘Mom, I kissed a boy, I think I’m gay’ and then collapsing in a chair taking puffs from your inhaler was a pretty weird way to announce your first kiss.

“You mean when I kissed you and you stared at me for three seconds before bolting?” Bucky asked, grinning. Steve figured he was lucky Bucky had kissed him so close to home, or he would have never have been able to make it there.

“I was having an identity crisis, okay?” Steve grumbled, leaning in to kiss Bucky, just to prove that he was totally okay with kissing now. “Besides, it worked out fine for you in the end.”

“Yeah, it only took four kisses to get you to stop running away.”

“Shut up, jerk.” Okay, yeah, fourteen had been an awkward age. He tried not to think about the very uncomfortable three weeks when he and Bucky had been figuring out how to be boyfriends instead of best friends before deciding that being boyfriends was pretty much the same, but with more kissing. “I wonder why she hasn’t told mom yet.”

“Maybe she’s decided to be normal and not tell her family everything ever,” Bucky suggested dryly. “Promise you won’t make this weird for her, Steve.”

Steve bristled. “I wouldn’t.”

“The only reason you’re not over at Doose’s Market yet threatening to punch Dean if he so much as dares to think about hurting your sister is because I’ve been distracting you.” And dammit, Bucky was probably right. Steve hated when Bucky was right.

“I’m not gonna make it weird,” he said. “But I am going to punch him if he hurts Rory.”

“I’ll get you a step stool so you can reach,” Bucky promised him, laughing when Steve shoved him.

-

The division for Movie Night had long since been established. Steve and Bucky would make some kind of complex pillow fort on the floor with cushions and blankets, and Mom and Rory would rent the movie and get the snacks. The pillow fort was more of a pillow nest at this point, with comfortable nooks to slouch in, or against, or over.

“I have to change!” Rory shouted as she threw open the door, dropping bags in the hall and running to her room.

“Um, why?” Steve asked.

“Because of mom!” she shouted back. Steve blinked up at Lorelai, who looked affronted. Did she spill something on Rory? She’d looked fine when they went out.

“It’s just a casual thing! See, Bucky’s here!” Mom shouted back.

“They’ve been dating since they were fourteen!” Rory said, coming out of her room and brushing her hair with way more force than necessary.

“I’ve been coming to Movie Night since I was eleven,” Bucky pointed out.

“Not helping,” Mom said, glaring at Bucky.

“Mom invited Dean to Movie Night!” Rory said. “And now I have to look pretty and cute.”

“You always look pretty and cute,” Steve said, because he was a dutiful and supportive brother.

“Shut up,” Rory sulked, going back into her room to throw clothes out of her closet on the bed. Steve went over to help.

“Why don’t you wear that?” he asked, pointing to a cosy blue sweater. “It looks great with your eyes.”

“A big chunky sweater that hides my shape?” Rory asked, on the verge of being offended.

“It’s soft,” Steve said. “I always like it when Bucky swears soft things?”

“You have no fashion sense,” Rory told him, continuing to grab clothes from her closet, shooing him out of the way. He sighed and moved, popping his head out of Rory’s bedroom.

“Hey Buck!” he called, waiting until Bucky dutifully came over from where he was helping Lorelai put snacks in bowls, based on some kind of complex chewiness system. “What’s a hot outfit for Rory?”

The deer-in-headlight look Bucky gave him was priceless. “Oh no,” he said. “No, no, that’s a trick question. I am not discussing your sister that way, Steve Gilmore.” He scurried back, hands out in front of him as if to ward off Awkward Conversations. “Lorelai!” he called, as Steve chased him out of Rory’s room. He wasn’t going to let Bucky get off that easily. “Lorelai, please go help Rory before Steve hits me for saying something stupid!”

By the time Mom had calmed Rory down and Dean had come over, Steve had successfully tackled Bucky onto the sofa, made him plead ‘Uncle’ and had gotten a bunch of chocolate flavoured kisses out of the way. Which was good, because he was sufficiently distracted so he wouldn’t Make It Weird, like Bucky said.

It was still weird. And awkward. And boy, why was Dean so _tall_? And then Sookie came, and then it was more awkward, but at least there was pizza. Bucky mostly seemed to be switching between poking Steve so he wouldn’t say something stupid and protective, and being amused at how amazed Dean was at how much the Gilmores ate. Bucky had long since learned not to try and keep up with what he called ‘Steve’s freakish supermetabolism’.  

Dean seemed okay, though. Rory seemed really happy, and they seemed to get along. He guessed it was alright, then, since Dean didn’t seem like a giant jerk. Which probably meant she deserved a better date than one with her brother and his boyfriend sitting two feet from them. Steve shifted, subtly poking Bucky’s knee. “Oh! I forgot I still need to do some math homework,” he announced. “Buck, do you mind helping? I don’t get that one question, with the truck and train and… stuff.” Super smooth, really subtle, Gilmore. “I totally forgot to ask because of all the candy.” He grinned awkwardly at Dean, before yanking Bucky up and pulling him up the stairs.

Dean, either because he was a good sport or just confused, uttered an ‘um, okay’. Rory was glaring like she wanted to burn a hole through his skull. At the top of the stairs, just before they slipped out of sight, he gave her a thumbs up. He could practically feel the glare through the floorboards, but it was worth it.

“Wow, Steve, that was super subtle,” Bucky told him when they closed his door. He grinned at Steve’s glare, wrapping his arms around him. “But you did very well. You didn’t threaten Dean once.”

“I’m pretty sure Mom has it covered,” Steve said, pulling Bucky over to the bed so they could sit together. “Besides, she’d kill me if she found out I got to threaten him first.”

“That’s probably true.”

“Did Mom ever threaten you?” he asked, grabbing a sketchbook. “When we first started dating?”

Bucky grinned, fishing out a comic book from the pile next to Steve’s bed. “Nah. She did tell me not to let you pull me into trouble all the time.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said, flopping down so he could rest his head on Steve’s thigh. “We kind of came to the conclusion that you’d been doing that long before we started dating, though, so it wasn’t likely to change.”

“Well,” Steve said, starting to doodle little cartoon Oompa Loompas. “You weren’t wrong.”

-

Winter arrived, with stupid grey clouds and stupid cold weather and Mom leaving the stupid window open in the middle of the night because who needed heat, apparently. Steve had to go so far as to steal the big, chunky white sweater out of Rory’s closet to wear over his three other layers. He was still cold.

Sure, the snow was magic. He remembered Mom waking them up in the middle of the night, back when they lived at the Inn, and how the entire grounds had looked like something out of the Narnia books. He also, however, remembered getting at least two colds and one bout of the flu pretty much every winter.

It didn’t help that Bucky was just as big a freak about snow as Mom. He literally came skidding into the kitchen in the morning, in his ridiculous bobble hat, asking: “Lorelai, is it going to snow?” and didn’t stop beaming all the way to school when she told him yes.

“Come on, Stevie,” Bucky wheedled, as Steve sunk down further in his oversized scarf, which was holding down the earflaps of his hat, which were pressing against the sides of his glasses, which he thought would help against the cold wind but which only fogged up when they went inside. He looked stupid and he felt stupid and he was cold and why was everyone so cheerful? “We can make a snowman with my sisters and make snow angels and build a fort and have hot chocolate.”

“Or it’s going to be sleet and misery all weekend,” Steve countered moodily.

“Nah,” Bucky beamed. “Your mom is never wrong.” He gently bumped his shoulder against Steve’s. “But hey, if it snows a lot, maybe you can get out of Friday night dinner, huh?” And okay, that thought did cheer Steve up a little. Enough that let Bucky rub his nose against Steve’s before kissing him goodbye on the way to class.

He should have known better. Really, he should have. And if it wasn’t bad enough that Grandma had sent a town car with a driver, a driver in a suit, he was waiting right in front of the school when it let out. He was going to hear about this for weeks. The driver, who introduced himself as Lance, politely but firmly insisted they had to leave as soon as possible if they were going to pick up Rory in time, which meant he couldn’t do more than huff and give Bucky a kiss before being whisked away. At least Lance looked vaguely apologetic about the whole thing, which made Steve feel much better.

The roads got worse and worse, and by the time they got to Chilton, Grandma had called three times to make sure they were still alive, they were being safe, and they were going to pick Rory up. The fourth time, Steve took pity on the driver and he grabbed the phone from the hands free set and shoved it at Rory. She rolled her eyes at him and talked to Grandma, calming her down enough that instead of calling Lance every ten minutes, she was going to call Mom.

“Is that my sweater?” Rory asked when they got in and took off their coats.

“Not anymore,” Steve said, burrowing deeper into it. “This thing is comfy.”

“There you are,” Grandma said, putting down the phone. “You must be freezing. Come in, come in. Did Lance come and get you both on time?”

“Yeah, Grandma, he was great,” Steve reassured her. “Though it’s really, really cold,” he added, giving her his saddest puppy dog eyes.

“Let’s get you both some nice hot drinks, then,” Grandma said, ushering them to the kitchen. Steve grinned at Rory, who rolled her eyes back at him. Hey, if they were going to be stranded here, they might as well make the best of it.

-

Dinner was surprisingly nice. He and Rory had made some frozen pizzas, and shockingly, the grandparents liked it. And there was something slightly absurdist about his grandparents eating frozen pizza with silver cutlery on expensive plates. For once, everyone seemed to be in a great mood.

When Rory came down with the photo album, Steve peered at the pictures with her. It was interesting, hearing stories about distant relatives. He could have done without learning about Grandma’s obsession with Errol Flynn and her and Grandpa’s sexcapades, though.

Then Rory turned the page and there was mom in a gorgeous if poofy white dress. She looked young, about their age, and happy. “Wow,” Rory breathed. “Mom looks really beautiful here.”

Grandma’s smile dropped. “Yes, she does,” she said.

“What was the occasion?” Steve asked. Were prom dresses white? He pictured mom more as the neon pink and sparkly kind of type for prom. Or maybe some kind of giant purple ball gown contraption. Something grand and amazing (and terrible. It was still the Eighties, after all).

“Who would like some coffee?” Grandpa asked, clearly ready to change the subject.

“That was her debutante gown for her coming out party,” Grandma said.

“Mom had a coming out party?” Rory asked, gleeful, grinning at him. It was probably a different kind of coming out party than the one she and Mom had thrown him when he was fourteen. That one had involved a rainbow cake Sookie had made, rainbow streamers, a bunch of their friends, the Barneses (Bucky being the other honorary guest, of course), and for some reason, Kirk dressed up as a clown making balloon animals.

“No, she didn’t,” Grandpa said. There was an awkward silence. Steve quickly did the math in his head, looking up at Rory just as she reached the same conclusion.

“Oh,” they said.

“Yes, well, things happen, don’t they?” Grandma said, firmly closing the photo album.

“Well,” Steve joked. “Maybe it’s for the best. You didn’t enjoy my coming out all that much.”

There was another awkward, even more painful silence.

“I have some business calls to make,” Grandpa muttered, getting up out of his chair and avoiding eye contact at all cost.

“I’ll go get that coffee.” Grandma brushed past them, quickly leaving the room.

-

Grandma found him in the kitchen, head buried in one of the cabinets because he was a teenaged boy with teenaged boy hunger and if there were magical hidden frozen pizzas then maybe there was a chance for magically hidden junk food as well. (No luck, though if he were really desperate, there was a can of peaches of questionable sell-by-date in the back of this cupboard.) Rory had retired to Mom’s old room already, saying she had reading to do. Steve had been given a guestroom with a kick-ass globe and ugly wallpaper.

“There’s chocolate in the second cupboard from the left,” she said, and he banged his head trying to get out of the cupboard as fast as he could. Grandma was sitting on one of the chairs at the breakfast bar, watching him. “In the black box with the yellow ribbon.”

Slowly, Steve opened the cupboard, taking out the box and putting it on the counter between them. Grandma waited a beat, then said: “Well, go ahead and open it.” Like this wasn’t some kind of trick. Still, chocolate…

So Steve opened it and took a bonbon, carefully nibbling on a corner until he tastes hazelnut filling before popping it into his mouth. Of course, Grandma waited until he had his mouth full to say anything. She was sneaky like that.

“You know, your Grandfather and I aren’t homophobic,” she said. Well, at least they were getting to the point. Steve rolled his eyes. Was chocolate really worth this conversation? Oh, that one had a coffee bean on it.

“Sure, Grandma. Unsubtly trying to set me up with that poor Kitty girl on my birthday by saying I didn’t have a girlfriend was super normal and not at all homophobic.” He made sure to grab the coffee bean bonbon, just in case he needed to make a hasty retreat.

“Well, you don’t,” Grandma huffed. Before Steve could open his mouth to point out the very obvious fact that he did in fact have a boyfriend, which may have been pertinent information, she continued. “I just wanted you to meet a nice girl from a nice family. Just because your mother has severed all ties to this community doesn’t mean you and Rory have to.”

Okay, this coffee bean thing was almost worth the speech. He rifled under the little cardboard separating the top layer from the bottom and pocketed the second one, debating if it was worth it or not to point out everything that was wrong with Grandma’s statement.

“And just in case you and _Bucky_ don’t last forever, you’ll know some nice people.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Steve said, grabbing a random bonbon and viciously biting it in half. Yuck, cherry filling. “I’ve known Bucky since I was five. We’ve been dating since we were fourteen. I think I’ve been in love with him since before I knew what being in love felt like.” Okay, wow, stop being sappy, Steve. Grandma was staring at him, surprised.

“We have our whole future planned out together, you know,” he continued. “What we’re gonna do for school, how we’re going to support each other’s careers, everything. He believes in me.”

He wanted to go on, tell her about all their plans, about how they were going to get married, about how Bucky always looked for creative jobs near companies he dreamed of working for one day, how they’d talked about kids and adoption and surrogates and dog names and what colour they would paint their house and of course they’d need at least one guest room, though two would be better if Mom and Rory wanted to visit at the same time as Becca and Grace and Rose…

He snapped his mouth shut with an audible ‘click’. “He loves me, and I love him,” he muttered instead, toying with the wrapper of the gross cherry bonbon.

“Well,” Grandma said, carefully picking out a bonbon of her own. “I would love to meet your young man.”

“What?” Steve blinked. This was not how he’d expected this conversation to go.

“Bring him with you next week,” Grandma said decisively. “If he’s so important to you, I want to meet him.”

“But...” Steve spluttered.

“Unless he’s _not_ that important,” Grandma said, eyebrows raised. She knew she had him trapped. “I wouldn’t want to meet him if he’s not that important.”

“He is,” Steve objected, casting around for an excuse. “He looks after his sisters on Friday, I don’t know if he can come.”

“I’m sure he can find a replacement for one evening,” Grandma said, obviously very pleased with herself. “Good night, Steve.”

Steve stared after her, still trying to wrap  his head around what just happened. He’d just been played. Played by Grandma. He glared at the little box of bonbons and decided if he was going to be duped into this with chocolate, he was taking the entire box and eating it with Rory.

-

Lance drove them home, and of course mom had been right. Stars Hollow was picturesque, covered in a blanket of fluffy white snow, snowmen in jaunty hats dotting front yards. It was beautiful, but also kind of terrible. He was going to be living in the sweater he stole off Rory for the next few weeks, with double socks on and a hot water bottle nearby at all times.

He was all ready to go inside, put on three more pairs of socks and trudge through the snow to find Bucky and leech all his heat, when Mom came outside in her pyjamas and a coat, closing the door behind her.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi,” they answered back in unison. Something was clearly up.

“What’s up?” Rory asked.

“Nothing, what’s up with you?”

“Other than freezing our butts off because our mother won’t let us inside?” Steve asked.

“You  have something to tell us,” Rory concluded.

“Boy you're so smart,” Mom said. She was clearly nervous about something. Steve couldn’t smell fire, so it probably wasn’t something like the Great Burnt Waffle Incident of ’98. He also hadn’t heard screams, so it probably wasn’t a gross looking bug trapped under a cup either. “Right, okay, here we go. I've got a boy in the house.”

“You what?” he and Rory said, pretty much at the same time.

“Nothing happened, I swear, he slept the whole night on the couch,” Mom said.  “And Rory knows him. And likes him! I don’t know if that’s relevant, I just thought that I would throw that in there.”

“You know what is relevant?” Steve groused. “The pneumonia your son is developing because you won’t let us into the house.”

Finally, Mom let them in, making a ‘shh’ gesture and sneaking over to the couch. It was that teacher guy, the one who’d come to pick up mom during Cinnamon’s wake and who had apparently not minded being ditched for a cat funeral because here he was, on their couch.

Bucky was right, he did have a nice nose.

“It’s Mister Medina!” Rory hissed. Mom pulled them to the kitchen to talk. Steve let Rory do the talking, since his opinion on Mister Medina didn’t really go beyond ‘I still haven’t forgiven that jerk for giving Rory a D’ and ‘I don’t really want to think too closely about my mother’s love life thanks’.

After Mister Medina left for Gypsy’s to see about his car and Rory went to change, Steve slumped around the kitchen. He’d kept out of the way when Mom had gone to wake him up, had given a little nod at the awkward ‘and you must be Steve’ conversation and handshake. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Mister Medina (except for the giving-Rory-a-D-thing, even though Rory had clearly forgiven him already), it was just so weird.

Mom came into the kitchen, stealing one of his pop tarts. “So?” she asked.

“So?” Steve echoed, playing dumb.

“You were pretty quiet back there,” Mom said.

“Not my place,” Steve shrugged. Then, because that sounded kind of mean. “He’s not my teacher. Rory seems to like him, though. As long as she’s okay with it, I’m okay with it.”

Mom nodded, clearly waiting for him to continue. She was used to Steve voicing his opinion, she encouraged it, even if they didn’t see eye-to-eye sometimes. Right now, though, Steve wasn’t sure what exactly he should say. ‘Good for you, he’s kind of hot in a teacher-y way’ was creepy. ‘I don’t want things to change’ just seemed childish and petty.

“Are you happy?” he asked instead.

“I think so,” Mom said. The way she smiled, she sure looked happy. And not just ‘the snow makes everything magical’ happy.

“Then I’m okay with it,” he said. “But if he hurts you, I’m kicking his ass.”

-

Bucky, because Bucky was insane and apparently a glutton for punishment (he did play like, three sports, voluntarily), said he would gladly come to Friday Night Dinner. Even after Steve promised him it would be okay to say no, that he’d come up with an excuse. Even after Steve warned him about how terrible his grandparents could be. Even after Mom promised Bucky she’d cover for him if he didn’t want to go. Bucky said he’d go.

And okay, as the week went on, Bucky got more nervous. Steve caught him during study hour at the school library looking up proper table manners and what different forks looked like. And then he started asking what would be appropriate to wear, and did he need a tie, because he didn’t own a tie, but he could probably borrow one from his dad.

And then on Thursday, Mom told them she couldn’t make it to Friday Night Dinner because there was a big function at the Inn and she needed to stay to keep everything running smoothly. That’s when Bucky started getting the darty, nervous look, like a mouse who could smell that the cats were right around the corner.

He and Rory tried to calm him down. Rory promised to switch the topic over to Chilton any time they needed her to, and Steve promised to knock over a candle and set a small house fire as a distraction so they could make a break for it. Bucky thanked Rory, completely ignoring Steve’s brilliant idea in favour of checking for the third time if his navy sweater with his white dress shirt would be an okay thing to wear to Friday Night Dinner.

Rory drove them to Hartford, not in the least because Steve didn’t have his license yet and Bucky looked so stressed out they’d probably die in a horrible accident because he got distracted asking if they were sure he didn’t need to wear a tie. So Steve sat in the back with Bucky, holding his hand and telling him he’d be fine and no, his hair didn’t look weird and yes, his sweater was fine and he was amazing and Steve loved him and please breathe, Bucky, or do I have to get my inhaler?

They gave Bucky five minutes to stare up at the house in terror, reassure him that he looked fine and Rory was totally ready to Chilton it up if they needed her to (she’d saved some especially juicy Paris stories for optimal distraction). Steve held Bucky’s hand until they gave their coats to the maid – Bucky wide-eyed, because yeah he knew about the maid, but she was so maid-like – and went into the living room for drinks. Grandma was standing there to meet them, looking polished and poised and Steve imagined utterly terrifying from Bucky’s point of view.

“And you must be _Bucky_ ,” she said, after saying hello to Rory and Steve.

“Yes ma’am,” Bucky stuttered, awkwardly offering his hand. “James Barnes, ma’am.” Because of course Bucky felt bad about Grandma calling ‘Bucky’ a hooligan’s name. Even though nobody had called him James in nearly ten years (only Winnie did, and then only when he was in big trouble).

“Would you like a drink?” Grandma said, turning away before Bucky fully had his hand out. Steve and Rory grimaced behind his back before Steve grabbed Bucky’s hand, pulling him over to sit on the couch with him. “Your grandfather is still in his study finishing up a call, he’ll be out soon.”

“I’ll have a club soda,”  Rory said.

“Coke please,” Steve said. He squeezed Bucky’s hand. “Buck?”

“Yes, coke please.” Bucky said, squeezing Steve’s hand back so hard it was kind of painful.

Rory, because Rory was great, started asking Grandma about some kind of function she had, so at least Bucky didn’t have to make small talk. He sipped his coke in ridiculous small sips. When Grandpa came into the living room he shot up out of his seat, getting a rather startled look from Rory, Grandma, Grandpa, and well, Steve too.

Steve stood up too, just to make it less awkward for Bucky. “Grandpa, this is Bucky.”

“James Barnes, sir.” And thankfully Grandpa did shake Bucky’s hand, or the poor guy’s head would have probably exploded.

“So how do you get ‘Bucky’ from ‘James’?” Grandpa asked, confused, as he went to pour himself a drink.

“My middle name is Buchanan,” Bucky said, relaxing for the first time since well, two days. “Steve gave me the nickname when we were six.”

“Your name is James Buchanan?” Grandma said, clearly unimpressed. “You’re named after the worst president in the history of our country?”

Buck shifted, uncomfortable. “No, I’m named  after my great-grandfather Buchanan,” he explained. “It’s a family name.”

“And your parents had just never heard of James Buchanan?” Grandma asked him.

“Emily,” Grandpa warned.

“Is it dinner time yet?” Rory asked, because she was a saint and the best sister ever and also probably just as uncomfortable as him and Bucky. Sure, Bucky was Steve’s boyfriend, but he’d been a part of the family for so long Rory was probably just as nervous about this whole thing as they were.

 “Yeah, I’m starving,” Steve quickly jumped in.

“I suppose we could get started on the salads,” Grandma said, seemingly reluctant to stop torturing his poor boyfriend over his middle name. Which was stupid because that was why Steve had decided Bucky was Bucky in the first place, because kids kept making fun of his name. (Also, five-year-old Steve had decided James was a _boring_ name.)

They moved to the dining room, and Grandma and Grandpa asked Rory about school, which kept them busy through the salad course and the start of the main course. Bucky was slowly relaxing, table manners perfect, laughing at a funny story Rory was telling about school. He even made sure to thank the maid for taking away his plate and bringing the new one.  

“So, James, we hardly know anything about you,” Grandpa said. “Or do you prefer ‘Bucky’?”

“James is fine, sir,” Bucky said politely, probably because he was sick of the way Grandma said ‘Bucky’ like she was smelling something foul.

“Well, James, what do your parents do?” Grandpa asked.  

“They both work in Stars Hollow,” Bucky answered. “My dad works part-time as a mechanic at Gypsy’s Auto Repair and Mom works at the Stars Hollow Art Supply Store.” Thankfully, he missed the look Grandma and Grandpa gave each other over the word ‘mechanic’. Steve threw Rory a worried look, but she just jerked her head at him, urging him to say something.

Steve grinned at Bucky. “It’s great, it means I’m always the first to know when new watercolours come in.”

“One of the perks of dating the owner’s son,” Grandpa smiled. “Smart move, working your connections.”

And before Steve could even begin to comment on how wow, Grandpa, that was so not the same as the nepotism in the business world and the Old Boy’s Club, Bucky cut in with: “Oh, she doesn’t own the shop, it’s Mrs Wesley’s.” And he certainly didn’t miss the look the grandparents gave each other this time. His face fell a little and he looked at Steve, worried. Steve gave him a smile, hoping to set him at ease. It was nothing to be embarrassed about.

“Ah.” Grandpa said before soldiering on, as if changing the subject would erase the fact that he and Grandma very clearly looked down on Bucky’s parents and their professions. Steve could feel the indignity of the situation sweep through him. How dare they? Bucky’s dad was a war veteran and a really hardworking guy, and Bucky’s mom was one of the kindest people Steve knew. And here Bucky was sitting, feeling bad about being judged by a bunch of rich, privileged old people. As if their opinion of Bucky mattered at all.

“Do you have any plans for college?” Grandpa asked.

“Yes sir,” Bucky said, seemingly just grateful for the change of subject. “After I finish my service I hope to study Engineering at MIT.” Grandpa made an approving noise. Bucky was smiling, the giant nerd that he was. Steve couldn’t help the sappy smile on his own face. Every college fair, Rory would rush to the Harvard table and Bucky would go right to the MIT table (leaving Steve to sneak a Yale flyer in his bag before going to look at more affordable, realistic options for art school).

“And what field are you interested in?” Grandpa asked, seemingly warming up to Bucky, now that he was satisfied he wasn’t planning on being ‘one of those working middle class people’, or something.

“I’m still trying to decide between Robotics and Bioengineering as a specialty,” Bucky admitted. “Or maybe a double major, if they’d let me. I mean, the possibilities combining the two are endless…”

“After your service?” Grandma cut in, because of course she did. Rory looked interested as well. God, why did Bucky have to try so hard to impress these people? They’d have to swear Rory to secrecy on the way home, since Bucky’s parents didn’t even know that yet. Bucky was pretty sure they’d disagree with his decision. He said he was waiting for the right time to tell them. Steve was pretty sure ‘the right time’ would turn out to be ‘after coming back from the recruiting station’, or maybe even ‘right before he shipped off to basic’ if it were up to Bucky. 

“I’m hoping to go to MIT on the GI bill,” Bucky said, and Steve hated the way his eyes lowered at the end of that sentence, like it was something shameful. Like he wasn’t being super brave just to make sure his parents could still afford to send all of his sisters to college as well.

“Isn’t joining the army a little dangerous?” Grandma asked, as if Bucky hadn’t considered that at length. As if he didn’t know exactly what risks he was taking.

“Well, it beats knocking over a bank to pay for school,” Steve groused. Bucky put a hand on his knee, squeezing it, as if to tell him to simmer down.

“I would have thought you wouldn’t approve,” Grandma shot back at him. “You keep talking about how you don’t support senseless wars.”

“I don’t,” Steve bit out. Bucky squeezed his knee harder. “That doesn’t mean I don’t support the men and women who risk their lives trying to make the world a better place.”

“Aren’t there scholarships you can apply for?” Grandpa asked, sounding half curious and half like he would really like to avoid a shouting match at the dinner table.

“Yes sir,” Bucky quickly said, because he was on Team No Shouting Matches. “There aren’t any that would cover the entire costs of admission, books and supplies, and room and board, though.” He shrugged. “There are a bunch that would cover some of it, but finding enough scholarships to cover everything is pretty much impossible, even if you were lucky enough to be approved for all of them.” They’d looked. And looked. And gone to the school counsellor and the library and searched online. Especially with Bucky being adamant that he didn’t want his parents paying for school, that he wanted them to use the money they saved for his college education for his sisters.

“I’m sure if you work hard and ask around, you could,” Grandpa said cheerfully, and Bucky’s grip on his knee went from Warning Squeeze to Death Grip. 

Bucky gave a shaky smile. “I’ve asked, sir, I’m afraid it isn’t possible.”

“Well,” Grandma said, with a little smile that reeked of condescension. “If you’re sure.”

Steve bit his lip, looking at Rory desperately. Rory was staring at him, wide-eyed, trying desperately to think of something to diffuse the situation. Grandpa just looked like he was still mulling over scholarships.

“I’m proud to be serving my country, like my father did,” Bucky said after a beat. Steve wasn’t sure if his voice was trembling with concealed rage, desperation, or something else entirely. “I don’t want my parents paying for school when they could be saving that money for my sisters’ education.”

“My, how noble,” Grandma said, in the exact same tone she’d called the tearoom she’d been to two weeks ago ‘quaint’ before complaining about the terrible food, atmosphere, chairs, and service for over half an hour.

“Okay, you know what?” Steve said. “That’s enough. If you just invited Bucky here so you could make him feel bad, we’re leaving.”

“We were just talking,” Grandma said, as if he was overreacting. “Honestly, Steve, I don’t know why you’re so upset, we’re just trying to get to know your boyfriend.”

“Yeah, sure,” Steve bit out as a hot wave of anger flushed through his system. “Asking about his financial situation and shitting on his future plans because he doesn’t have parents to pay for everything is getting to know him.”

“Steve,” Bucky said. 

“No, Buck, they’re judging you for things they don’t have a clue about,” Steve said. “When’s the last time either of you tried to get a scholarship, huh? When’s the last time you had to weigh investing in your future with going into so much debt you wouldn’t be able to support your family? When’s the last time you weren’t able to afford something that wasn’t a useless overpriced antique?”

“Your grandfather works very hard-”Grandma began, offended.

“And Bucky doesn’t?” Steve cut her off, voice rising, ignoring the way Bucky tugged on his arm to try and get him to calm down. “He works two jobs on top of being a straight A student. He takes care of his sisters and he’s the captain of the soccer team. And Winnie and George do everything in their power to support their kids. Or does hard work only count when you go into an office and wear a tie or own a business?”

“Steve, I’m sure your grandmother didn’t mean…”

“Don’t get me started, you were just as bad,” Steve spat out. “I was stupid to think bringing Bucky here was anything other than another chance to make me feel bad for dating him. Great job, pretending like you actually wanted to meet him.”

“You’re being unreasonable,” Grandma said.

“No, I’m standing up for my boyfriend instead of sitting back and letting you destroy him.” He looked at Bucky, who looked miserable and embarrassed at being the cause of such a scene. “You know what, I think we’re going to skip dessert and, I don’t know, the lecture about how Bucky’s haircut isn’t the appropriate length or whatever else you had planned.”

He grabbed Bucky’s hand and thankfully, Bucky stood up and went with him. Steve knew he couldn’t get Bucky to do anything he didn’t want to, and he could tell that his need to be polite was warring with the need to get out of there. In the end, Bucky seemed to compromise by apologising profusely to the maid who handed them their coats.

Once they were outside, Bucky leaned against the door, running a hand over his face. “Jesus,” he breathed.

“I am so, so sorry,” Steve said. He was still vibrating with anger, pacing to the car and back up to Bucky with quick steps. “You didn’t deserve that. I thought… well, I knew they were going to be shitty, but I didn’t think they were going to be that shitty.” He should have known, with the ambush in the kitchen, with the stupid talk about Kitty and the ‘I just wanted you to meet someone from a nice family’, he should have suspected they weren’t serious about getting to know Bucky. They just wanted another shot at getting him to conform and date a nice rich girl and be ‘normal’.

“It’s not your fault,” Bucky said. “I just… I always thought you were kind of exaggerating about them being so… you know, for comedic effect.” He gave a crooked little smile.

“I am so sorry,” Steve repeated again. “What they said in there… you have to know that it doesn’t mean anything, Bucky. Fuck their judgement, you’re such a great guy. Your family is great. You’re so brave and you work so hard, and for them to just…” He stopped, rummaging in his bag for his inhaler and taking a puff. He was not going to make this worse and have an attack right now.

Bucky moved over to him, worriedly rubbing his back. “You okay?”

“Fine,” Steve said, focussing on taking deep, even breaths. Focussing on letting the anger singing in his veins go. He wanted to punch something, go back inside and yell some more at his grandparents about their stupid standards. Bucky’s ‘Steve is going to do something stupid’ senses were probably working, because he wrapped an arm around him and pulled him close. Steve went, only slightly grudgingly.  

“If Rory isn’t out here in three minutes we’re taking the car, she can call a cab.”

Bucky pulled him closer, wrapping both arms around him. “I know you’re mad, but don’t take it out on your sister,” he muttered into Steve’s hair, taking a deep, shuddering breath.

This wasn’t just a ‘Steve needs to calm down’ hug anymore. This was now a ‘please hug me because I am about to fall apart’ hug. Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky, looking up at him, trying to make sure he was okay. “I’m sorry I put you through this,” he told Bucky.

Bucky shrugged. “I love you,” he said, like that made it all okay. Because Bucky was a stupid, romantic, perfect idiot, and of course he’d do anything for Steve.

“I love you too,” Steve said. He wasn’t sure how long they stood there, wrapped around each other until Rory came out. Probably longer than three minutes.

“Sorry,” she said. “Grandma and Grandpa wanted me to stay for dessert, and when they realised that wasn’t going to happen, they wanted me to come out here to talk to you.”

Steve looked up, a tiny little doubt niggling in the back of his mind for a split second. Until he saw her face, and everything was right-side-up again.

“So, Luke’s?”

“Luke’s,” Rory confirmed, and they made their way to the car. Steve resolutely did not look back as they started the car and drove out the driveway, but in his mind, he imagined Grandma’s shocked and insulted face as she rushed to the window and pushed away the curtains just in time to see their taillights disappear. Instead, he focussed on Bucky, holding his hand and kissing him.

They drove in silence for about fifteen minutes, before Rory awkwardly apologised for not being able to keep the conversation focussed on Chilton. Bucky shrugged the apology off, telling her not to worry. “It’s just more proof than you can’t get a Gilmore to do anything if they don’t want to,” he said, grinning and nudging Steve before turning the topic what pies Luke might have left over. The grin was still a little brittle around the edges, though, and every time there was a lull in the conversation, Bucky’s gaze drifted to the window, eyes sad.

They stopped in front of Luke’s and fell out of the car, pounding on the door until Luke came out from behind the counter where he was cleaning the coffee pots and opened up.

“The diner’s closed,” he said, motioning towards the ‘closed’ sign and the upside-down chairs resting on the tables.

“We need emergency pie,” Steve told him seriously. “Peach, if you have it.” Peach was Bucky’s favourite.

“What’s the emergency?” Luke groused, even as he let them brush past him and take a few chairs down off the tables.

“Bucky met the grandparents tonight,” Rory said. Luke paused and then sighed.

“I don’t have peach, but I have a strawberry-rhubarb in the back for tomorrow,” he said, starting the coffee maker as he went to the back to get it. Strawberry-rhubarb was Bucky’s second favourite, so that was alright.

-

They arrived back home in much higher spirits after a piece of pie each, some coffee, and a strawberry milkshake with three straws in it (that had turned into a drinking contest, which had turned into brain freeze). Bucky had piece of pie in a to-go-bag for Lorelai, Steve carrying four to-go cups of coffee. Luke had grumbled about giving them that much coffee so late at night, but Steve had wheedled that he’d already made a pot and it was such a shame to throw it out.

They found Mom sitting on the porch steps with a cup of coffee, waiting for them.

“Hey, how’d it go?” she asked.

“We brought you pie,” Rory said.

“From the grandparents?” Mom asked.

“From Luke’s,” Bucky said, holding up the bag.

“That bad, huh?” she asked as they joined her on the steps. “That does explain the angry voicemail Grandma left me.”

“We kind of stormed out,” Steve admitted, handing out the coffee.

“ _You_ kind of stormed out,” Bucky said. “And you dragged me with you.”

“And then Rory said she’d come outside and talk to us and then we sped off in the car,” Steve added gleefully.

“I did not,” Rory protested. “They told me to go outside and talk to you. I never said yes. I just said ‘I’m going to go now’.”

“I’m sure Grandma will be very interested in discussing the semantics next week,” Lorelai said, but she sounded proud. “So, it didn’t go very well, huh?”

“They didn’t like me,” Bucky said, and he sounded so down about it, Steve bristled again.

 “Who cares what they think? They didn’t even try to get to know you.”

“It was pretty awful,” Rory agreed.

“They kept acting as if Bucky not being able to afford going to MIT with money left to spare was some kind of moral failing,” Steve said. “They practically sneered when Bucky told them what his parents did for a living.”

Bucky seemed to shrink in on himself more, and Steve cursed himself. He was trying to say how ridiculous it was, not make Bucky feel worse about the whole thing.

“That sounds like the Gilmores, alright,” Mom said, wrapping an arm around Bucky. “Hey, don’t let them get to you. You’re a great kid and pretty much the best thing to ever happen to Steve. If they can’t see that, it’s their loss.”

“Thanks, Lorelai,” Bucky muttered, and the words did seem to set him at ease. Steve was going to make sure Bucky knew exactly how little his grandparents’ opinion mattered in the coming days. Everyone who really knew them could see how perfect they were for each other. If anything, it was Steve who didn’t deserve Bucky.

“You know,” Mom said. “I was going to keep this a secret, but since you brought me pie, there’s two trays of leftover macaroons in the kitchen from the event.”

It was quiet for a few seconds, before there was a rush to see who could get to the kitchen first while Lorelai cackled and ate her pie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me on tumblr [here](http://innytoes.tumblr.com/).


	6. Of dances and disasters, crises and Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Rory gets in trouble, things are awkward, and nobody gets any apple tarts.

The magic of winter had long since lost its appeal by the time Steve started coming down with something. Well, to everyone but Mom, anyway. Luke was muttering about frozen slush, Kirk was bothering people with his new snowploughing business, and even Bucky had lost his chipper attitude after having to shovel the driveway twice a day for a whole week due to the snowfall.

He’d spent most of Friday Night Dinner miserable and quiet, which was probably a relief to Grandma in any case. And while he spent most of the ride back trying to nap, he’d still heard enough of Mom’s conversation with Rory to get the general gist: Rory had a fancy dance and she was maybe sort of considering going just this once.

They were sitting on the bed doing homework in companionable silence. Steve was bundled in three more blankets than usual, and he had that gross menthol-stuff spread on his chest to help him breathe (though it just made him feel sticky most of the time). Bucky had brought his homework and given it to him with a kiss, even though Steve was all stuffy and gross-looking right now. He’d also brought some soup his mom had made, because he was the best boyfriend ever.

Rory was sitting at the foot of the bed, bent over her history book, when Steve looked up from the notes Bucky took for him in biology to say: “If Dean doesn’t want to go to the dance, you can borrow Bucky.”

From his spot on the floor leaning against the bed, Bucky looked up in protest. “Hey!”

“What? You’re pretty and you’d look nice in a suit,” Steve said, running his hand through Bucky’s hair. He looked at Rory. “Plus, he can dance.”

“Rory can’t,” Rory pointed out, not even bothering with the other stuff, such as ‘you can’t just offer to lend out a human being’ and ‘doesn’t Bucky have a say in this’.

“That’s beside the point,” Steve said, waving it off. “The point is, if my sister needs my boyfriend to stand around and look pretty to stick it to those Chilton jerks, my boyfriend will stand around and look pretty.”

Bucky looked like he was about to protest again, but then just shrugged and nodded at Rory. He didn’t really like the way those snotty kids at Chilton were treating Rory either.

“You just want to see Bucky in a suit,” Rory said accusingly.

“That too,” Steve admitted. “But the offer still stands.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” Bucky agreed. “It’d be fun, going to a dance with someone and not having to worry about them starting a fight for once.” He gave Steve a severe look, making Rory laugh.

“Come on, Buck, that was just the one time,” Steve whined, which sounded extra pathetic with his stuffed up nose and sore throat.

“Seventh grade spring fling,” Bucky said, ticking them off on his fingers. “Eighth grade dance, the Stars Hollow Summer Fun Festival the same year, and then again at…”

“Okay, okay,” Steve said. “Maybe more than once.”

“I haven’t even asked Dean yet,” Rory said, looking worried all of a sudden. “Do you really think he’ll say no?”

“He’d be an idiot to say no,” Bucky said decisively. Steve nodded in agreement.

“But if he has to work or something, you can borrow Bucky,” he beamed.

-

The night of Rory’s dance, he and Mom were each on one end of the couch in their pyjamas, trying to out-miserable each other. He wasn’t sure who was winning, since Steve looked like death, but at least he could shuffle to the kitchen to get things without saying ‘ow’. And he had on a much cuter ‘I’m sick and miserable’ outfit, with his cartoon watermelon slice pyjama pants, dinosaur t-shirt, and the zip-up hoodie Bucky had left at his place. (He’d get it back. Eventually. Probably.)

Rory’s dress looked beautiful. She looked like a fairy-tale princess with her hair up, even if the floppy boots kind of ruined the picture. He was too sick to argue with Mom about the expectation that women should have to suffer to be pretty, so instead he just told Rory she looked great and stole a taco from the bag Sookie had brought.

Grandma came by, and he enjoyed a few brief moments of being judged (uncombed hair, ridiculous pyjamas, trying to stuff a whole taco in his mouth in one go) before the disappointment settled on Rory, who came in wearing a tea towel bib over her pretty dress, stuffing a burrito in her face.

There was an incredibly uncomfortable few minutes when Grandma decided Dean absolutely had to come to the door to pick up Rory, even though they agreed that he’d honk and she’d come out. Steve almost regretted dragging himself out of bed to see Rory off. When Dean finally came to the door, the conversation was mercifully short. It was kind of unfair, after all she and Grandpa put Bucky through, but on the other hand, he was glad she wasn’t going to ruin Rory’s night.

“What do you know about this boy?” Grandma asked them as she watched Rory and Dean leave.

“I know that Rory likes him and that his parole officer has high hopes for his rehabilitation,” Mom quipped back at her.

“Does he drink?” Grandma asked, clearly ignoring a perfectly good joke.

“Nah, he’s more into the hard drugs,” Steve replied. “You know, cocaine, crystal meth, that kind of stuff.”

“That’s not a crazy question,” Grandma said, mildly offended.

“It is a crazy question, Mom, because if I had knowledge of him being a drinker, he would not be with Rory now.” Mom shifted in her seat a little. Steve nodded, half encouragement and half because he was too tired to tell Grandma that not only would he and Bucky keep away any creeps from Rory, pretty much all of Stars Hollow would chase Dean out of town like an old-fashioned mob with pitchforks and torches if he turned out to be a jerk and hurt Rory.

“What are you going to do?” Grandma asked Mom.

“What do you mean?” Mom asked, looking slightly worried at whatever

“Well, you certainly can’t be left alone,” Grandma huffed. “You can barely move.”

“I’m not alone, I have Steve,” Mom said, desperate.

“Steve looks like he can barely stand up himself, let alone help you,” Grandma said sternly.

“Hey,” Steve croaked, trying to supress a cough, hand pressed over his mouth. It didn’t work, and after stifling about three or four, he gave up, letting out great whooping coughs until he was out of breath and gagging. He grabbed his glass of water, wiping the tears from his eyes. Grandma gave him a Look.

“I’m totally fine,” he said around the little itch in his throat, swallowing painfully.

“I’m staying,” Grandma decided.

Mom grimaced. “No, Mom.” She huffed, throwing her magazine on the table. “I can stand, okay?” She stood up from the couch, slowly, wobbly. “I’m fine!” Steve moved his hand to steady her, which probably didn’t help her case much. Grandma certainly didn’t seem to think so.

“Move,” she ordered.

“What?” Mom asked.

“Move,” Grandma repeated. “If you’re fine, then move.”

“I can move,” Mom said, huffing in frustration while standing perfectly still. “This is me moving…” Nothing happened. “Any second now the moving will begin.”

There was a moment of silence in which Grandma looked incredibly unimpressed and Mom kind of swayed in place. Steve sniffled.

“Rats,” Mom sighed before flopping back on the sofa.

“A for effort,” Steve said, patting her knee comfortingly.

“I'll go start some tea,” Grandma said, moving to the kitchen. “Please tell me you have something besides _Lipton_!”

“Well,” Steve said, slowly inching his way off the couch. “I’m going back to bed. Wake me when Rory gets back.”

“Wait, no,” Mom pleaded, making grabby hands at him. “Don’t leave me alone down here.”

“You and Grandma have fun now!” he said, staggering up the stairs.

“Traitor!” Mom called after him.

“Love you!” he called back, making his escape.

He barely managed to get the door closed when he heard Grandma call from the kitchen: “Lorelai, did you say something?”

“No?” Mom called back. Steve sniggered to himself, which ended up in coughing, which ended up in him crawling into bed again and mercifully falling asleep before Grandma decided to try and ‘take care’ of him as well.

-

Usually, waking up when he was sick always sucked. The head full of cotton, the sore throat, the aches and pains in his joints, the trouble breathing… sometimes there was the bonus feeling of a big fat slug stuck in his sinuses, slowly crawling from one side to the other every time he turned over.

None of that compared to waking up to the sound of his mother shouting Rory’s name with ever increasing panic, though. He pulled himself out of bed, wincing at the way his head throbbed and squinting at the clock while he groped for his glasses. It was just after five thirty in the morning, no wonder he felt like shit. It wasn’t normal to be awake at this hour.

Which really made Mom shouting for Rory a lot more worrying.

He shuffled out of his bedroom, blanket wrapped around him, and peered past the corner. Mom seemed to be on the phone, Grandma standing next to her. Grandma? Was this some kind of terrible fever-filled nightmare? Was Rory going to show up being chased by zombies? Usually his nightmares always ended in zombies. Or evil aliens. He blamed Bucky and his stupid taste in movies. Whatever the case was, he decided to hang back for the time being.

“That was Patty,” Mom was saying. “She said that she found them asleep and woke them up and Rory’s on her way home.”

Steve took a deep breath, relief flooding through him. Rory was okay. Though what the hell she was doing at Miss Patty’s was a mystery. Did Dean’s car break down or something? That wasn’t an excuse, it wasn’t like Stars Hollow was so big you couldn’t walk home from the centre of town.

There was of course a pretty obvious reason why two teenagers would sneak into an abandoned dance studio and fall asleep together. Grandma was certainly implying as much. Mom wasn’t having it though. As they moved to the kitchen, Steve crept down the stairs. Rory wouldn’t do something like that. Even if she wanted to… do that, she wouldn’t stay out all night. She wouldn’t make him and Mom worry like that.

“She’s going to get pregnant,” Grandma said, in the kitchen. Steve stopped on the little landing, sliding down to sit with his back against the wall. He really, really didn’t want to be a part of this conversation. Especially not with the doubts niggling at the back of his mind. It wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about… that, with Bucky. Of course he had the bonus of not being able to get pregnant, but, well, they were sixteen. Sex was on their mind.

He and Rory had always been pretty close together, developmentally. (Though she still liked to lord over him that she’d learned to tie her shoes two whole weeks before he did.) She was probably thinking about it. Steve wasn’t sure. It wasn’t like they’d talked about sex and stuff, but she was dating someone now and she hadn’t come home and…

“No, she’s not,” Mom said.

“She’s going to ruin everything, just like you did,” Grandma continued, ruthlessly.

“No she’s not, no she’s not, no she’s not!” Mom cried out. “Rory is a good kid, Mom! She’s not me.”

Rory was smart. Even if she wanted to have sex, even if she was _having_ sex, she was smart. She wanted to go to Harvard. She wouldn’t let some dumb boy mess that up. God, he bet this was all that stupid Dean’s fault. He was going to kick Dean’s ass for getting Rory into trouble.

Mom was shouting back at Grandma now, and Steve felt a surge of vindictive pleasure at Mom standing up for herself, for their life, and for Rory. It was quickly replaced by an overwhelming sense of relief as he saw the door open, Rory slipping inside. She had her shoes in her hand and her hair was a little messed up, but she seemed okay, she was safe and thank god.

She stared at him with big eyes that darted between him and the kitchen, before she slipped through the hall and against the wall next to the landing. Steve stuck his hand through stiles of the banister, just a simple touch, just to make sure she was real and okay and safe. She gave him a nervous little smile.

“You okay?” he mouthed, not trusting his voice. She gave a little nod. He wanted to say something, something about how scared they’d been and something about how much trouble she was in and how he had her back and how angry he was because how could she do that, they were so worried, but then Mom stopped shouting and Grandma stormed out of the house with a slam of the door and Rory moved into the kitchen.

And then the shouting started again. Steve pulled the blanket around him more, squeezing his eyes shut and wishing they would stop. Wishing that Rory would just explain, that Mom would just calm down long enough to feel the relief that Rory was alright, that she’d stop being angry and look at things rationally.

Yeah, right. Like he hadn’t inherited his temper from her.

“You are going on the pill,” Mom threatened.

What?

“What?” Rory seemed to echo his thoughts.

“You are not getting pregnant!”

“I’m not sleeping with Dean!” Rory shouted back.

Well, that was kind of a relief. He was still kicking Dean’s ass, though.

“This is crap!” Rory said. “You know I didn't do anything. You know this is an accident. You're just mad because I screwed up and I did it in front of Grandma and she nailed you for it.” The shouting had gone down to… well, very angry loud talking. Steve was pretty sure that wasn’t any better. “Well I'm _sorry_. I'm sorry that I screwed up and I'm sorry that you got yelled at, but I didn't do anything and you know it!”

A door slammed. Probably the door to Rory’s bedroom. It was quiet for a moment, but then Steve heard soft, ragged breathing. He slowly pulled himself up and shuffled into the kitchen. Mom was sitting at the table, face in her hands, crying as quietly as she could.

How many times had he made her sit at the kitchen table like that, he wondered. Probably more times than she deserved. He wondered what Rory had done those times. He’s mad at Mom, mad at her for what she said to Rory. But he also gets it, because he kind of wanted to shout at Rory, too, or go punch Dean, or sit on a kitchen chair and cry.

Instead, he shuffled over and gave Mom a hug, letting her cry for as long as she needed to.

-

Things were tense after that. Mom and Rory weren’t really talking to each other. They said things in the general direction of one another, like that would fool Steve into thinking they weren’t fighting, but it wasn’t really talking. He started spending all his free time at the Barnes house, or at the art shop, or in his room with the door closed and his headphones on. Anything to ignore the way his throat felt fight in a way that had nothing to do with the flu whenever Mom and Rory were in the same room, talking-but-not-actually-talking.

Things at school weren’t much better. He didn’t get to punch Dean, mostly because Bucky had a firm grip on his upper arm when he saw Dean in the hall and because Dean sounded really apologetic. That didn’t keep him from calling him ‘Narcolepsy Boy’, though, nor the vindictive joy when the nickname spread throughout the school.

He’d tried to talk to Mom about the whole thing, maybe smooth things over for Rory, but she’d gently but firmly told him that this was between her and Rory. Which Steve thought was bullshit, since he’d been there too, just as scared and worried, never mind the fact that he was the one stuck in the middle of their super awkward not-talking now.

After three long, awkward days and even more painfully uncomfortable evenings, he tried to talk to Rory instead. They’d had a quick conversation about what had happened the day after, of course. Rory had told him they’d left the dance a little earlier, that they’d fallen asleep accidentally after reading in her book for a while, and that nothing had happened. And of course Steve believed her, of course he knew it was an accident. He’d swallowed back his frustration, his fear, not wanting Rory to feel like he was ganging up on her with Mom.

 “Are you and Mom ever going to talk to each other again?” he asked her, flopping onto the end of her bed as she was sitting at her desk, writing on her laptop. He stared at her from his upside-down position, head hanging over the edge of the bed. She didn’t turn around, but she did stop typing.

“We’re still talking,” Rory said.

“Bullshit,” Steve said. “You know what I mean. Is it going to be all passive-aggressive good mornings and overly polite ‘please pass the ketchup’s from now on? Because in that case, I’m moving in with the Barneses.” He was pretty sure Winnie and George would at least let him sleep over a few nights so Mom and Rory could hash this out and things could go back to normal.

“She started it,” Rory muttered, viciously jabbing the backspace key.

“Technically, you started it,” Steve pointed out. “When you gave us a heart attack by not coming home.”

Rory turned in her chair, glaring. “So you’re on her side now?” she asked.

“I’m not on anyone’s side!” Steve said. This was not a conversation to have upside-down. He turned over onto his stomach, ignoring the head rush. “You shouldn’t have fallen asleep, but she shouldn’t have shouted at you like that. She definitely shouldn’t have threatened to put you on the pill, that’s your choice to make, not hers.”

“It was an accident,” Rory said, frustrated.  “I’ve told you both a million times already.”

“I know,” Steve said. “But she was really scared. You should have heard how panicked she sounded. And then Grandma started saying all those terrible things about you and her...”

“It’s still not fair that just because Grandma was mad at her, she got mad at me.”

“No,” Steve agreed. “I think Mom said some things she didn’t mean because she was scared and upset. Grandma being there was just the overly dramatic cherry on top of the shitty situation cake.”

Rory sighed. “So, what do you want me to do? I’ve already said I was sorry.”

“Just talk to her, okay?” Steve asked. “I hate it when you two fight. You never fought before.”

“Oh, so that’s Dean’s fault too?”

“I never said that,” Steve said, even though he was pretty sure it kind of was Dean’s fault. He’d even made Rory doubt going to Chilton for a little while, which was totally unacceptable in Steve’s eyes. Dean kept making Rory do stupid things, things that were really unlike her, even if it was unintentional. Besides, Dean wasn’t even that cute. Tall, yes, but not as cute as say, Bucky.

“I just want you to be happy,” Steve said helplessly. “Both of you. And this situation is making both of you miserable. Which, by extension, is making me miserable. So really, you’d be doing me a favour if you just talked to her.”

“Well, if it’s doing you a favour…” Rory rolled her eyes.

-

It had been almost a week and Mom and Rory were still being weird. When he semi-casually enquired if Bucky’s parents wanted a second son who would paint the garage door but also had detention almost every week, Winnie patted his shoulder and told him the situation would resolve itself soon enough, just give it time. George looked thoughtful for a moment, like he was actually considering it, until Winnie glared at him.

He and Rory were getting ready for annual Gilmore Christmas Party. Rory was trying to convince Mom to come, after Grandma uninvited her out of spite. Steve was trying to convince Mom to let him stay home as well. If she didn’t have to go, why did he? But Mom had insisted, so here he was, in nice shirt and red cardigan and tie (spruced up with a few safety pins) that clashed fabulously with his recently dyed green hair.

“I think you’re acting a little immature,” Rory said, waving the card at Steve so he would sign it.

“I’m not acting,” Mom said, sulking.

“I don’t think it’s fair you get to stay home and eat pizza while we have to dress up and sit through weird vegetable courses and meat that will probably still have a face.” The grandparents loved fancy holiday meats that still looked like animals.

“There’ll be apple tarts,” Rory said pointedly. “You love apple tarts. Mom waits all year for those apple tarts. She makes up songs about how she can’t live without them.”

“You’re right,” Mom said, and Rory looked triumphant for a second. “Steve, you have to go. Take some Tupperware so you can bring Mommy home at least seven apple tarts.”

“You are setting a terrible example as a parent,” Steve told her.

“And get me some face-meat too,” Mom beamed. “Drive carefully, look out for ice.”

-

The party was stupid and boring and uncomfortable. Grandma was pretending she and Mom weren’t fighting (gee didn’t that sound familiar) and Rory kept trying to talk to Grandma about it, and the guests were boring, and even though he’d sneaked a few apple tarts into a stupid little Tupperware box, it wasn’t the same without Mom singing her badly made-up Apple Tart Song, or composing odes to it while Rory picked apart the syntax. He just wished it could be over already, it was so _boring_.

But then Grandpa collapsed, and Steve felt a moment of pure, crystalline, terrifying guilt, as if his wish had caused this. It was all kind of a blur after that. He was pretty sure an ambulance was called, but how they got to the hospital… he wasn’t sure. Did Rory drive? Did one of the boring guests? Did they ride in the ambulance? He was pretty sure he should be able to remember this kind of thing, but he couldn’t. It was just Grandma’s panicked shout, terror, and then the smell of a hospital waiting room.

Of course, Steve was intimately familiar with hospital smells: waiting rooms, the ER, treatment rooms, the cafeteria, recuperation rooms, specialist offices, radiology, all of it. Usually it wasn’t accompanied by the nerve-wracking worry and the need to do something he had right now, though. Usually he was the reason they were in the hospital and he was too busy being sick.

Grandma had sent him and Rory off to find a paper, probably more to keep them busy than for any other reason. He let Rory pick the papers out, that was her thing, while he stared at the creepy balloons in the gift shop. They were creepily cheerful, with phrases such as ‘get well soon’  and ‘it’s a girl!’, nothing that would be appropriate, like ‘please don’t die’ or ‘I’m sorry I wished for something interesting to happen at dinner right before you collapsed’ or ‘we’ve only had like two real conversations yet please, please don’t die’.

When they came back, Mom was there, and so was Luke, which was a little odd yet somehow entirely unsurprising. Grandpa had come out from wherever he was and was in his room, so he and Rory went in as Mom lingered in the hallway with Luke.

Grandpa looked pretty terrible, lying on the bed, groggy and pale and a bit rumpled. Of course, hospital gowns weren’t really a good look for anyone, Steve knew from experience, but it looked especially unflattering on Grandpa, who wore a suit every day of his life.

Grandma told them to keep Grandpa entertained while she hunted down some ‘decent pillows’, whatever that meant. Steve had tried to tell her that down pillows in a hospital was a recipe for disaster, what with dust and allergies and bodily fluids, but she just scoffed at him. Grandpa just gave a weak, hospital-bed version of a shrug, raising his eyebrows more than anything. Anything else probably hurt to move.

Rory got settled in the chair beside the bed to read the paper, and Steve commandeered the other one so he could doodle in the margins and on all the photographs. It wasn’t like Grandpa was going to see them anyway. There was only one chair (probably Grandma’s next quest, when she saw him sitting on the floor), but that was fine. He could still see Grandpa, kind of, and the cold of the floor along with Rory’s soothing reading voice helped him get the whirling mess of anxious guilt and terror under control.

Rory had finished a whole paper and had started on the other (only frowning a little at Steve’s embellishments to the front page) when Grandma came back and basically shooed them out. Rory asked Grandpa if it would hurt if she gave him a hug (“Pain is a part of life”), but Steve settled for squeezing Grandpa’s hand before fleeing out of the room.

Luke was still sitting in the chairs next to their room, hunched over, eyes on the ground. Steve dropped into the chair next to him, while Rory went off to find Mom. “What are you doing?”

“Staring at my shoes,” Luke answered, resolutely not looking up.

“Why?” Steve asked. They weren’t really interesting shoes.

“Because every time I look up, they’re wheeling past someone with a tube down their throat or a screwdriver sticking out of the side of their head,” Luke answered, sounding a bit queasy.

Steve sighed. “I hate hospitals.”

“Me too,” Luke agreed, still talking to his shoes, hands coming up over his head as someone in a wheelchair was pushed by. Thankfully they did not have a screwdriver sticking out of their head. “All the smells and the sick people and the dying… I’d never come here voluntarily.”

“Wait, but didn’t you come visit me that time I was sick?” he asked, like that narrowed it down. “When I was twelve and I had to stay for nearly two weeks?” He was pretty sure Luke had come to visit.

“I can’t believe you remember that,” Luke said, looking up for the first time. “You were pretty out of it the whole time I was there.”

“Of course I remember,” Steve said. “You brought me one of those puzzle books. I was so loopy I drew on half the pages and made Rory fill out the crosswords.”

“You kept trying to order coffee and asked what types of pie I had,” Luke said, smiling.

Grandma opened the door to the hospital room, then, looking tired. Steve gave her an awkward smile, standing up so she could sit while Luke sat up straight like he was in the principal’s office.

“Steve, why don’t you do find your mother and Rory?” she suggested. Steve dithered for a moment, but one Look from Emily Gilmore and he shot Luke a ‘you’re on your own’ look before skedaddling. He had no idea what Grandma wanted to talk to Luke about, especially after she thought he and Mom were on a date, but he wasn’t going to stick around and find out if it meant facing the wrath of Emily Gilmore.

-

Mom sent him and Rory home with Luke, awkwardly smooshed together in the front of his truck. Luke made sure they weren’t hungry, gave them both an awkward shoulder squeeze, and muttered something about having to check if Taylor didn’t destroy his kitchen. He only drove off when they were both inside with the lights on, which was kind of sweet.

He called Bucky when he got home, and of course Bucky said he’d come over right away. He showed up with two containers full of cookies, because apparently Becca had heard him on the phone and insisted he take some of her bake sale cookies with him to ‘cheer Rory and Steve up’. They ended up sitting on the floor in front of the couch eating cookies, watching a bad sci-fi movie, while Rory called Dean from her room with the second container full of cookies.

The following day, Grandpa was allowed to go home, and Mom came back. Things slowly went back to normal (though there were A Lot Of Vegetables at the next Friday Night Dinner). Mom tried to get Luke to make him and Rory a ‘Santa Burger’until he grouched at her, they cheered for Rose as ‘sheep number two’ at the Miss Patty's Christmas Pageant, had peppermint coffee at Weston’s, and he and Bucky went to the annual Stars Hollow Christmas Fair together. (Steve tried to win Bucky a bear before deciding after five rounds that buying him a hot chocolate would be a better idea.)

On Christmas day, they had breakfast and opened presents in their pyjamas. Rory beamed at the veritable tower books he got her (he’d bribed Andrew at the bookstore two months ago to hide them from Rory and tell her that he couldn’t order them until the new print) and Mom was already wearing the rainbow-pooping unicorn socks and pizza-shaped earrings he’d gotten her.

Rory, of course, had gotten him a book, as well as some really cool new vinyl records for the rinky-dink record player he liked to use when he was drawing. There were some punk albums, as well as a collection of big band numbers. Mom had gotten him a new book bag (‘you can put your angry buttons on it yourself’) filled with a bunch of new sketch books and Friday Night Dinner Bingo Cards.

They spent the day as they always did: watching movies, eating a ridiculous amount of junk food, playing ridiculous games, reading (Rory) and drawing (Steve) and napping (Mom).  

The day after Christmas, they bundled up and headed towards the Barnes house. He’d gotten up early(ish) to fashion his green hair into three big spikes, hanging tiny little red and silver baubles in them.

It usually took them nearly two hours to get from home to the other side of town where Bucky lived, because of all the Festive Christmas Greetings from various townspeople, the ‘oh wait I got you something’s, and the fact that Mom would get distracted at every odd-looking nativity scene. (“Why is Santa standing next to the Wise Men? Was he the forth Wise Man? Rory? Steve? You can keep walking all you want, but I’m going to keep talking!”) His Christmas Tree Mohawk didn’t speed matters up, but the way small children stared at him in wonder was kind of cool.

Officially, they ‘didn’t do presents’, just the Terrible Gift Competition (he’d gotten Becca this year and had found an amazingly horrifying kitten statue, which looked demonic in the right light). Still, there was a great exchange of unofficial gifts, including the oil paintings Steve had made of the Barnes children for Winnie and George. Becca had sat for some of her painting until she realised how boring it was to be a model for an oil painting, and he’d worked off photographs for Grace and Rose. Bucky had sat for his, of course, making lewd jokes about posing naked until Steve’s ears glowed.

Of course, Rory won the Terrible Gift Competition by regifting Bucky a hideously ugly tunic-sweater that she’d gotten for her birthday. They still weren’t entirely certain if the gift had been meant in earnest and someone in her class just had extraordinarily bad taste, or if it was a rich person spite gift. But it was fuzzy, itchy, a weird shade of salmon pink, had a bunch of pearls stitched around the neck, and an expensive brand on the label.

Bucky stripped off his festive holiday sweater to squeeze into the monstrosity to the cheers and whoops of the Barnes and Gilmore clan. The sweater had been too big on Rory (another point to ‘spite gift’ on the list), but Bucky could barely fit his broad shoulders in it. Mom took a picture of him posing in it, while Rose complimented Bucky for looking like a princess. She squealed when Bucky told her he could use his ‘princess dress’ for her dress-up games.

“Do I want to know what the price range on that was?” Winnie asked, grimacing.

“Only if you want to know that you can get incredibly ugly clothing for way too much money,” Steve said sagely. Rory smiled apologetically.

George had gotten Steve a weird looking planter that looked like a head with the top cut off. He’d filled it with pink gummy worms for maximum effect. Steve secretly kind of loved it.

The rest of the day was spent hanging around, eating Actually Homemade Cookies Actually Made From Scratch, and watching Mom and George and Winnie try to assemble the ridiculously complicated toy Grace got for Christmas. There were a lot of creative not-swears and eggnog involved.

Late that evening, after the girls had been sent to bed and Mom and Rory went home and Winnie and George had gone upstairs, Steve and Bucky were still in the living room, heads half under the tree as they stared up at the lights. They’d pulled the couch cushions on the floor, their own little sleepover.

“So I know I already gave you a gift this morning,” Bucky said, eyes still staring up into the tree when Steve looked over.

“Yes, I thought the Captain America boxers were an especially inspired choice.”

“But I kind of have another gift too.” Bucky squirmed out from under the tree, getting a squashy package out of a drawer.

“If you pull out a Captain America thong I am strangling you with it,” Steve said, carefully sitting up, slightly wilted Mohawk (mostly devoid of baubles by now) rustling against the tree branches.

Bucky grinned, giving him a kiss before handing over the present. He looked oddly nervous. Steve slipped his fingers under the wrapping paper, taking pity on Bucky and opening it quickly. (The paper was kind of wrinkled already anyway, it was obvious Bucky had wrapped this one without help.) Red and white fabric came into sight, a jacket with ‘SH’ on the front.

“You’re giving me your letterman jacket?” Steve asked, voice hushed and awed as he took the well-loved jacket from the wrapping paper.

Bucky was biting his lip. “I know it’s not really your style, it doesn’t go with the whole punk look, but it’d mean a lot to me if you wore it.”

“Shut up, shut up, I am never taking this off.” Steve said, pulling the jacket on as fast as he could. It was a bit big on him, the sleeves falling over his hands, but it was warm and cosy and smelled faintly of Bucky.

“It’s not sappy and dumb?” Bucky was smiling.

“It is super sappy,” Steve told him, sitting up on his knees so he could lean over and kiss Bucky. “But it’s not dumb.” Bucky gave him a look. He’d heard plenty of Steve’s rants on status symbols and the high school hierarchy over the years. “It’s a ridiculous cliché, yes, but it’s not dumb.”

They lay back down on the couch cushions, heads under the tree again. Steve ran his thumb over the letter on the front of the jacket.  “I’m putting some queer punk badges on it, though,” he muttered, snuggling into Bucky’s chest. Bucky wrapped an arm around him, pressing a kiss to his temple.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me on tumblr [here](http://innytoes.tumblr.com/).


	7. Of puppies, Parents Day, and penises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Steve roots for the literal underdog, Steve and Bucky get busy, and there are a lot (A LOT!) of awkward conversations about condoms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter where the fic earns its M rating, people. Special thanks to thealidoyle for lightning fast beta-ing, and fitzmackotp for the brainstorm session about Steve and Condoms.

“You’re wrong.”

“I’m not wrong, you need to put on your glasses.”

“Buck, I’m telling you, you are super wrong.”

“Come on! Yours is trying to eat its back paw, mine is playing adorably with a leaf.”

“He had an itch! He’s smart, see?” Steve peered over the edge of the pen, wiggling his fingers at the puppies. Both dogs ignored him.

Bucky had volunteered at the Pet Finder adoption fair before school, because it would look great on his college applications, and also because if he could sell pink porcelain unicorns, how hard could selling adorable puppies and kittens be?

(“There is so much poop, Steve.” Bucky had told him when he’d come over with some coffee for Bucky. “Seriously how can so much poop be contained in such small animals.”)

And now, somehow, they were in a heated discussion about which puppy would be adopted first. Steve had obviously chosen the runt of the litter, the one who was little smaller than the rest. He loved an underdog, especially when it was an actual dog.

They were both wrong, when their first picks were passed over for the third puppy in the litter, a girl. But now it was down to two, and they were both rooting for their respective pick. Steve insisted Bucky was playing dirty, using his charm to persuade people into checking out ‘his’ puppy. Bucky shot back that he was just doing his job.

“Luke!” Steve called, at the sight of a familiar baseball cap and flannel. “Be our tiebreaker. Which one of these dogs is cuter, Bark Ruffalo or Robert Doggy Junior?”

“They both look the same,” Luke said, peering down at the dogs.

“How dare you,” Bucky gasped. “Robert Doggy Junior is much more sophisticated and his fur is way shinier.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Um, no. Bark Ruffalo is way cuter. Look, he has a bit of adorable curly hair right here and he’s very smart and loyal. Bark Ruffalo cares about the environment.”

“Did your mother really abandon a hamster at a pet store?” Luke asked, obviously aware that there was no winning this, no matter what he said.

“Oh, Skippy?” Steve asked. “Yeah, we don’t talk about Skippy, Mom gets all defensive.”

Bucky, who was not above playing dirty, picked up one of the dogs and cuddled him close. “Luke, you should get a puppy.” He rocked the dog invitingly in his arms. Robert Doggy Junior didn’t seem to mind, mostly occupied with trying to lick Bucky’s chin.

Luke smiled, petting the dog before pulling back. “I don’t think so,” he said.

Bucky pouted. “How can you resist this face? Look at these puppy eyes!”

“Yours, or the dog’s?” Steve muttered, earning himself a kick in the shin.

“I get enough puppy eyes and whining in the morning from people who need their coffee,” Luke said. Which, fair enough, seeing as Steve was one of them. He patted the dog one more time before wandering off, looking at the rabbits a little while away.

Bucky looked down at the puppy in his arms, then to Steve. “Bet you I can get mine adopted before you can get yours adopted.”

“You’re on.”

-

After Grandma tricked Mom into going to Parents Day with her smugness, things got even weirder. Mom was acting all shifty about it, like she was nervous and didn’t want to go. Steve double and triple checked she had something appropriate to wear. There would be no repeats of the ‘Mom goes to Chilton dressed like a cowgirl’ on his watch. Stars Hollow High, maybe, everyone in town knew her questionable fashion choices here, but Chilton was a whole different ballpark.

Then it turned out she wanted to dump Mister Medina, which Steve… well, he wasn’t sure what he thought about that. He’d only met the guy once, after the whole stranded-in-the-snow incident. He’d always made sure to be well out of the house before the guy showed up. He seemed like an okay guy, though. Mom smiled whenever someone mentioned him, or when she came back from a date.

He’d been a little weirded out when Rory had said she wanted to invite ‘Max’ along to skating, though. Not just because it would be kind of like tagging along on his mother’s date with his sister, but because it meant that is was Super Serious. At least, he thought. They’d never really known any of Mom’s other dates or boyfriends.

And maybe it was selfish, but he wasn’t sure he wanted things to change. The idea of this random guy being a part of their life all of a sudden, going on their family outings, it made him feel uncomfortable. But he was willing to suck it up for Mom, for Rory, because it made them happy. He wasn’t sure why she would want to break up with him, if he made her happy and Rory liked him. He decided to stay out of it and just support Mom and Rory the best he could.

Which was a lot harder when they came back from Parents Day in some kind of huff. He looked up from the kitchen table, already starting his usual ‘I know, I’m sorry the entire table is covered in paint supplies, I’ll clean it up, we eat in the living room anyway’  spiel when Rory stormed by him and slammed the door of her room. Mom stood in the hallway for moment, looking frustrated and helpless, before saying something about needing to check on a thing at the inn and going back out.

Steve waited until he heard her close the door before barging into Rory’s room. “Fun day at school?” he asked. Rory looked up from where she was angrily untying her stupid uniform shoes.

“Mom came to Parents Day,” she said.

“Yeah,” Steve said, drawing out the word. “But she was wearing nice clothes this time, right? I just saw her.”

“Paris saw her kissing Mister Medina in his classroom,” Rory said, flinging her first shoe across the room. Steve took a step back. Rory didn’t have the greatest aim, even if she wasn’t throwing at him, there was still a pretty big chance of getting hit. “She told the whole school.”

“Wait, weren’t they going to break up?” Steve was pretty sure he had been part of that weird and awful conversation just last night.

“Yes,” Rory said with feeling, before the other shoe sailed across the room and landed in front of her closet with a thud.

“But instead they made out in your classroom?” Steve asked. “Ew, what if it was on your desk?”

“Steve!” Rory glared at him. “Not helping.”

“Sorry.” He tries his best to look apologetic. “Maybe it was on Paris’ desk.”

“Still not helping,” Rory told him. “She told everyone, Steve. By the end of the day, everyone was staring at us and whispering behind our backs.”

“That sucks,” he said, trying to put himself in her shoes. (Though not literally, they looked uncomfortable.) “Don’t let them get you down, though. You didn’t do anything wrong. If you go around acting ashamed, they’ll think they’re right to judge you. Who cares what a bunch of rich snobs think?”

“I’m stuck with those rich snobs until I graduate,” Rory pointed out.

“All the more reason to not take their shit,” Steve said. It must be hard, though. It wasn’t like Steve had tons of friends in school, and sure, people talked about him behind his back sometimes, but he was used to it. He regularly showed up in class with bright pink hair and got into shouting arguments about colonialism in history class. And he had Bucky, and Skye, and the other ‘weird art kids’ who even if they didn’t really talk much would still hang out in the art room with him while they all worked on their stuff without being assholes to each other.

“I know it’s hard, but you still have me, and Lane, and Bucky, and everyone else here. Don’t let them make you feel bad about yourself. Or about your dumb mother who apparently breaks up with people by making out in empty classrooms.”

“Please stop saying ‘making out’ when you’re talking about Mom and Mister Medina,” Rory said, making a face.

“Smooching?” Steve countered.

“Ew.”

“Swapping spit? Playing tonsil hockey? Sucking face?”

 “You’re the worst,” Rory said, but she was smiling again. Mission accomplished.

“Want me to go kick Paris’ ass?” he asked.

Instead of rolling her eyes, Rory thought about it for a painfully long time. Okay, for a few seconds, but a painfully long time for Rory. “No.”

-

After the break-up, things were sad and awkward for a while. It was weird and stupid, because he’d been fine with Mom breaking up with Mister Medina, but somehow the fact that he broke up with her sent lightning bolts of rage up and down his spine. How fucking dare he? Mom was an amazing person, how dare he hurt her like that? He’d done his best to cheer Mom up and make life easy for her, bringing her ice cream and doing some cleaning and giving her an extra hug when he could.

He’d also picked a fight with Grandma at Friday Night Dinner two weeks in a row just so she would leave Mom alone. He wondered if he could put ‘debating experience’ on his college applications. Arguing with the grandparents over anything from Appropriate Evening Wear For Young Women At Formal Parties to foreign policy to what constituted a fair and living wage was a lot more intense and educational than anything the Stars Hollow High Debate Team could come up with.

Things got better, slowly. Rory and Lane got into super big trouble for lying to Mrs Kim and Mom, which meant Steve had to give her a lecture about how 1) excuse me, I am the bad twin here stop stealing my thing and 2) always tell your brother when you are getting into trouble because he can cover for you.

Mom decided to volunteer for the rummage sale like some kind of crazy person, which meant the entire house looked… well, looked like Steve’s bedroom when he was halfway through an art project. She’d pestered him into making a sign, though, and then had pestered Luke into putting it up at the diner. Steve was floored when she actually came home sans sign, and even more surprised when it turned out to actually be up at Luke’s. 

“Creepy looking clown painting?” Bucky asked, holding it up in front of his face.

“Wow. Take it out back and burn it?”

“And risk running into a fellow townsman demanding to know why Bozo the Serial Killer isn’t at the rummage sale?” Bucky countered.

“Fine. Ugly paintings are in that corner,” Steve pointed, before going back to untangling a box of scarves. When he looked up, Bucky had a tophat on and at least two scarves around his neck.

“You’re supposed to be sorting, not playing dress up, Mad Hatter,” he said. Bucky grinned, before lovingly placing a hideous purple probably-not-actual-fur hat on his head.

“I’m multi-tasking,” he told Steve with exaggerated dignity. “And I look great in this hat.”

“If you say so,” Steve said, rolling his eyes so he wouldn’t have to admit that Bucky did look kind of cool or at least not _too_ dumb with that hat on. “We should probably get going anyway before Rory’s super fun Chilton girl group show up.”

“Oh my God, that's right,” Mom said, turning to Rory. “You're studying here today.”

“Any minute, actually,” Rory confirmed. She looked less than thrilled.

“Oh, this place is such a pit,” Mom said, which she really should have considered before inviting the entire town to use her house as a dumping ground.

Rory sighed. “Don’t worry about it. They'll come in, they'll make a face, they'll say something snotty, we'll study, they'll leave.”

Steve gave her a sympathetic look that was probably marred by the ugly fuzzy hat. “You want me to hang around and look menacing to keep Paris in line?” he asked.

“What? No!”

“No, it’d be great, me and Bucky can just sit in the corner and glare at them silently,” he insisted. Bucky gave her his best dull blank glare for a second.

“Go away, you nerds,” Rory said, taking Steve’s hat off and throwing it back on the pile.

“You just don’t want everyone at Chilton to know how much cooler your brother is,” Steve said, grinning.

“More like I don’t want Madeline and Louise to ogle your boyfriend,” Rory muttered under her breath. Out loud, she said: “I'm just looking forward to this whole day being over, then I can concentrate on the concert.”

“Well, that’s something to look forward to,” Bucky said, putting the top hat back on the pile with a last flourish. Of course, they were kind of looking forward to their own night of unsupervised housesitting. (As if anyone was going to break in and steal any of the junk they had collected, though.)

“Before I forget,” Mom butted in, slipping Steve a twenty. “Bucky, you’re Steve-sitting. Here’s enough to get some take-out or something.”

“I’ll be sure to have him well-fed and in bed by nine,” Bucky replied dutifully, hand over his heart.

“I’ll settle for ‘keep him from getting arrested’,” Mom replied, and Steve huffed. Like he was going to get in trouble just because Mom and Rory were out of town. Their being in town or not had never stopped him before.

“I will hide him from the cops and be his alibi,” Bucky promised, laughing and hurrying out the back with Steve as Lorelai shouted ‘that’s not what I meant’ after them.

-

They ended up back at Steve’s after Mom and Rory left. Mom had left a note stuck to the fridge about taking the ‘Chilton girl gang’ with them to the concert, which was surprising.

“So, pizza or Chinese?” Bucky asked, sorting through their truly impressive array of take-out menus.

“Either way you’re going to try and add vegetables,” Steve groused, wrapping his arms around Bucky from behind. He stood on his toes, trying to hook his chin over Bucky’s shoulder before finding out he couldn’t do it comfortably. Stupid Bucky and his stupid last growth spurt. “You’re too tall.”

“Pizza it is. I will let you pick dessert if you add at least one vegetable to yours.” Bucky turned around, bending down slightly to press a kiss to Steve’s lips.

“What if I want you for dessert?” Steve asked.

“Well, I am low in fat and delicious,” Bucky said, grinning.

They settled down on the couch between the piles of junk. Steve didn’t bother clearing all of the couch, using it as an excuse to cuddle close to Bucky. This worked great until the doorbell rang and Bucky got up, leaving Steve to flop against the couch cushions.

They ate their pizza, curled up together on the couch. Bucky told Steve about a funny thing that happened at work, and Steve told Bucky about the weird things people had been bringing to the house. After they both made valiant attempts at destroying their pizza (Steve didn’t even pick off the vegetables), Bucky moved to clean up the pizza boxes. Steve twisted out from under his arm, swinging one leg over Bucky’s so he was straddling him.

“Not so fast,” he said, grinning. “You promised me dessert.”

“I did,” Bucky agreed, leaning back against the couch. His hands found their way to Steve’s hips, fingers splaying out, creeping under his shirt. Clearly, Bucky had the right idea.

They spent a long time kissing like that, enjoying the privacy of a whole house to themselves, no sisters asking to join their tea party or mothers asking if they’d see her fuzzy pink sweater or even more sisters shouting ‘stop stealing my highlighters, Steve, buy your own’.

Steve took the time to run his fingers through Bucky’s hair, enjoying the feeling of it between his fingers. He could feel himself getting hard in his jeans, making little grinding movements in Bucky’s lap. From the sounds Bucky was making, he certainly didn’t mind. Which was a good thing, because Steve didn’t actually want to stop.

He could feel Bucky’s fingers slipping under his shirt, hesitantly exploring the skin there, hands slowly sliding up his spine. He made a little involuntary noise, somewhere between a moan and a giggle, as Bucky swept his thumbs over his sides. “Ticklish,” he said reproachfully, biting Bucky’s lip in retaliation.

“Sorry,” Bucky said, not sounding sorry in the least. He tipped his head back more, drawing Steve into another deep kiss. His hands slid down again, firmly gripping Steve’s ass and pulling him closer. “This better?”

“Buck,” Steve gasped, rocking forward, seeking that delicious pressure.

“Fuck,” Bucky whispered, and then they were a flurry of movement, hands pulling at shirts and zippers and getting in the way of each other’s attempts to undress one another.

“Wait,” Steve panted, pressing a filthy, open-mouthed kiss to Bucky’s mouth. “Hang on, let me just…” He pulled back a little, sitting up, the movement making Bucky groan and buck his hips up. He quickly tugged his shirt off and threw it away (he’d have to find it later, somewhere in the pile of other people’s clothing) before doing the same with Bucky’s shirt.

And wow, there was every wet dream he’d had since the age of thirteen in one single image: Bucky staring up at him, flushed and messy-haired, lips glistening, his half-unzipped jeans tenting.

“What?” Bucky asked, probably unnerved at his staring.

“Nothin’,” Steve said, flushing. “Just wanna draw you, is all.”

“If you get up to get your sketchbook I am leaving and you will have blue balls forever,” Bucky warned, laughing when Steve rolled his eyes and yanked open his jeans the rest of the way, slipping his hand inside. He took immense pleasure in the way Bucky stopped grinning and instead threw his head back, thrusting his hips up.

“Nah, this is more fun,” he said smugly, enjoying the way Bucky squirmed when he squeezed his cock through his underwear.

“Steve,” Bucky pleaded. “C’mon, Steve.”

“I gotcha, Buck,” he soothed, biting his lip in anticipation as he worked Bucky’s erection out of his boxers.

Of course he’s seen Bucky naked before, changing during sleepovers, in the locker room. And yeah, the looks had become longer and more appreciative over the years, but they hadn’t done anything like this. Steve had never gotten to touch before. The thought gave him a rush, heat pooling in his belly. He got to touch wherever he wanted to.

So he did. He ran his hand up the length of it, fingers trailing over the head until Bucky whined in the back of his throat. It was so different from touching himself, Steve thought. Not just dumb things like the angle or the fact that he couldn’t, you know, feel what he was doing. Bucky was wider than he was, thicker, perfect. Steve wanted to touch him, taste him, make him come so hard he screamed.

He settled on the first one for now, stroking, twisting his wrist at the end like he liked. Bucky seemed to like it too, from the way he bit back a moan before pulling Steve down into a kiss, hand fisted in Steve’s hair in a way that shouldn’t be as arousing as it was.

His own cock was throbbing painfully in his jeans by now, and he tried to shift to take the pressure off while keeping his hand on Bucky’s dick, stroking. It wasn’t particularly successful.

“Bed,” he gasped into Bucky’s mouth. “We need a bed.”

“Yeah,” Bucky agreed, hands moving under Steve’s ass before standing up, holding him up. Steve gasped, letting go of Bucky’s erection to wrap his arms around his neck. It would have been incredibly sexy, being carried like that, if it weren’t for the fact that Bucky’s jeans slid down his thighs and bunched around his knees when he tried to walk, sending them toppling into a pile of donated clothing.

Steve couldn’t help himself, gasping and giggling as Bucky squirmed and wrestled his way up from on top of him. His jeans were still painfully tight and he wanted to gets his hands back on Bucky, but it was just too ridiculous. “I’m sorry,” he gasped as Bucky pulled him upright. “I’m sorry.” Bucky kissed him in between his own laughter, before hitching up his pants with one hand and pulling Steve along up the stairs with the other, determined to keep going.

They made it up the stairs, eventually, with two more near-falls (one due to Steve trying to get his jeans open with one hand while they were walking, one due to getting distracted by kissing). When they finally crash-landed on top of Steve’s bed, Steve’s pants were down to his ankles as well, and Bucky had lost his jeans and underwear somewhere between Steve’s door (hastily kicked shut) and the bed.

“Fuck, Steve,” Bucky breathed, crawling on top of him again and kissing him. “Feels so good.” He slipped his thigh between Steve’s legs, giving him something to grind up against. He could feel Bucky’s erection pressing against his hip as he rocked down, pressing wet, sucking kisses along Steve’s neck and shoulder.

Steve bit back a moan, losing himself in the sensation: Bucky above him, on top of him, arms bracketing Steve’s head as he kissed him, Bucky thrusting against him, Bucky panting in his ear, Bucky, Bucky, Bucky. He could feel himself tense up, and he pulled away from a kiss to gasp: “Wait, stop.”

Bucky pulled back, worried eyes scanning his face, which was the last thing Steve wanted.

“Want your hands,”  he clarified, wriggling out of his briefs, pulling Bucky so his cock was right next to Steve’s, which, oh. That was even better. He slid a leg around Bucky’s thigh, pulling him closer. “Please, Bucky.”

“Yeah,” Bucky nodded, perfect hair falling in his eyes, face flushed. God, Steve just wanted to kiss him. So he did, wrapping his arms around Bucky’s neck and pulling him closer. He gasped when Bucky took both of them into one of his hands, stroking experimentally, once, twice. “Fuck, Steve.”

“Just like that,” Steve urged, using his new-found leverage to both pull Bucky closer and rock up against him. It felt so good, so hot, and he was so close. From the needy little noises Bucky was making, he was pretty sure that Bucky was pretty close too. “Bucky, just like that, c’mon.”

It all happened in a rush. Bucky started stroking faster, faster, thrusting against him as Steve just tried to hold on, tried to hold back. But it was no use, and he was coming, gasping, spurting into Bucky’s hand, onto their stomachs. Bucky bit back a moan and came soon after, collapsing to the side so he wouldn’t crush him yet still managing to sprawl on top of him.

They lay together for a while, panting, staring at the mess they made, taking in each other’s bodies now that they weren’t in such a hurry to get off. (Steve was going to draw Bucky like this someday soon, he decided.)

“That was…” Bucky started, before trailing off and giving Steve an adorable, dopey smile.

“Yeah,” Steve agreed, still breathless. He shifted closer, wrapping an arm around Bucky, who took it as his cue to nuzzle Steve’s neck and get comfortable.

“Love you,” he muttered sleepily, dreamily, into Steve’s neck. Steve smiled, flipping a blanket over them before settling down.

“Love you too.”

-

Steve had thought maybe things were going to be awkward after that. It was in the three minute scramble to put on at least some boxers when Mom and Rory came home late that night, but other than that it was fine. It was fine in the morning, when they woke up curled together, and fine when they went to breakfast at Luke’s with Mom and Rory, who told them all about the concert and the stunt Madeline and Louise had pulled. It was fine when Bucky kissed him goodbye and went home after breakfast.

Except now he wanted sex _all the time._ Well, he kind of did before in the abstract, in that he was a sixteen year old ball of hormones, but now that he actually knew how great it was to get off with another person, with _Bucky_ , he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

“We need condoms,” he told Bucky, whose head shot up with the panic of someone who grew up with three snoopy younger sisters. “There’s no one here, Buck.”

“I guess I could ask to borrow the car,” Bucky mumbled. “Dad’s birthday is coming up. I could say I need the car to pick up his present the next town over.”

“The next town over?” Steve asked, confused.

“Or like, the gas station off the highway,” Bucky amended.

“Getting condoms is not some kind of covert operation, Buck. If you’re worried about your parents or sisters finding them, we can keep them at my place.”

“I’m not worried about my _sisters_ ,” Bucky said, face growing thoughtful and then horrified. “Okay, now I am. But I was more worried about the whole _town_.”

“The town?”

“Hi Taylor, how are you? Isn’t the weather lovely? Oh, these? Yeah, they’re so I can have teenage sexual intercourse with my boyfriend,” Bucky started. “Hi Miss Patty. Yes, please join in with this incredibly uncomfortable conversation with some serious TMI before telling the whole town. I can’t wait until the next town meeting where Taylor will bring up the dangers of teenage sex. I wonder what Rabbi Barans will have to say!”

“I don’t think Doose’s stocks condoms,” Steve said slowly.

“You think any other place in Stars Hollow will not lead to Miss Patty and Babette giving us thumbs up whenever we’re on a date?” Bucky asked him. He had a point. Steve was so not ready for that. He would never be ready for that.

“Relax,” he said, trying to soothe Bucky. “I’ll just slip them in with my order when I have to pick up my prescription at the pharmacy this week.” If he could have an entire conversation with Mrs Kim with Lane’s punk CDs hastily stuffed under his sweater, he could slip a box of condoms by his mother and up into his room. Mrs Kim was way scarier than Mom.

The plan had seemed like a great idea, until he was at the pharmacy and realised that the condoms were kept in a locked glass case behind the counter. Which, of fucking course they were. He stared at his reflection in the case sullenly as Kirk dug below the counter to find his prescription. Luckily, it was pretty empty, no Miss Patty or Babette or Taylor in sight.

“Will that be all?” Kirk asked.

Steve took a deep breath, willing away the squirming uncomfortable feeling in his stomach. “‘nda boxaconmsplease,” he managed to get out. His face felt like it was on fire.

“I’m sorry?” Kirk asked in his best Customer Service voice.

“And a box of condoms, please,” Steve said again, barely above a whisper.

“Certainly,” Kirk said, taking out a key and unlocking the sliding glass door of the case behind the counter. “This week we have a special on ribbed for her, or his, pleasure.”

Oh god.

“We also have a wide selection of flavoured condoms,” Kirk went on, waving his hand to a bunch of colourful boxes. “The grape ones are pretty okay, however the strawberry isn’t very realistic.”

He was going to die of embarrassment in this pharmacy talking about flavoured condoms with Kirk.

“Just normal ones,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Would you prefer with or without lubrication?” Kirk asked. “We also have separately packaged lubrication in a variety of sizes.”

He was going to die of embarrassment and they were going to have a town meeting about it. The Steve Gilmore Act of No Unsupervised Teenagers In The Pharmacy was going to be his legacy.

“I don’t know, with.” He should have done some research online. Real research, not porn research.

“I should point out that those are not latex free,” Kirk said helpfully. Of course he knew about Steve’s latex allergy. The school nurse had to special order latex free gloves because of him. “In fact, none of these are latex free.”

“So this whole conversation could have been avoided?” Steve asked, frustrated.

“Probably,” Kirk agreed. “I could special order a sampling of latex free condoms for you?”

“Never mind,” Steve sighed. Like that wouldn’t spread around the town like wild fire.

“Will that be all?”

“Yeah, Kirk, that’ll be all.”

-

So it was on to Plan B. B for Borrow A Car. Only when Bucky talked about needing the car to get a present for George for his birthday (“Something from outside of town, maybe from the mall, Mom, so it’ll be something he hasn’t seen around town before, I’ll pay for gas!”) he and Steve ended up chaperoning Becca, Grace, and Rose around the mall to buy birthday presents as well. And there was no sneaking away under the watchful eyes of three younger sisters who adored both their big brother and his boyfriend.

So that was a bust. On to Plan B-and-a-half, which was ask Mom to borrow her car. At a time where Rory would absolutely not be able to come along. Just in case. He was pretty sure if they left her at a bookstore and snuck off she wouldn’t notice for at least an hour, and since she wasn’t under the age of thirteen it wasn’t completely irresponsible, but he still didn’t want to risk it.

“Mom, can I borrow the car?”

“Did you sneak out and get your licence behind my back?” Mom asked, head buried in the fridge. “Or is this some kind of joyride thing? Because I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to ask if that’s the case.”

“Bucky would be driving.”

“Don’t Bucky’s parents have a car?” Mom asked, then made a triumphant ‘aha’ sound, emerging from the fridge with a jar.

“We already borrowed Winnie and George’s car a few days ago,” Steve said. This was not going well. He’d thought she’d ask way less questions if she was distracted.

“What do you need the car for?” Mom opened the jar, giving it a smell. Judging by the look on her face, it wasn’t a good smell. The jar went into the trash.

“Errands,” Steve said, willing his voice to sound casual.

“What kind of errands?” Mom asked, the first hint of suspicion creeping into her voice.

“Just errands,” Steve huffed, but it was a lost cause. He could feel the tips of his ears go red.

“How about you ask Rory to drive?” Mom said. “Bucky’s not on our insurance in case something goes wrong.”

“No, never mind,” he backtracked. “Rory’s busy enough with school, she shouldn’t be driving me around.”

“Is this some kind of teenage make-out thing?” Mom asked. “Do you want to drive up to Make-Out Point only to get chased through the forest by the man with the hook?”

“I just need some art stuff!”

“Winnie can’t order it in?” Mom totally knew something was up now. “You spent twenty minutes last Friday talking about the importance of supporting small businesses.”

“Argh, fine, whatever, I’ll take a bus,” Steve said, turning around and stomping to his room and flopping down on the bed. He’d take a stupid bus two towns over or something, so he wouldn’t accidentally still run into anyone from Stars Hollow. He could skip PE and still get home at a regular time. Two birds with one stone. Even if Bucky would give him sad puppy eyes for missing his PE class.

A knock at the door. Mom was standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame. “Can I come in?”

“Whatever,” Steve sighed. He sensed a Talk coming on. Hopefully just a Steve is Being Moody What’s Wrong Talk, though.

“You could just tell me you needed the car to drive to the mall to get some condoms,” Mom said. Shit. Shit, that was not the Talk he wanted to have at all.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said, desperately avoiding eye contact.

“Or you could just steal some out of the box in the medicine cabinet, you know.”

“Ew, ew, ew, we are not having this conversation,” Steve said, pressing his hands over his ears. “I don’t want to hear about your condom stash, ew, ew, ew.”

“But you want to start your own.”

“How do you even know that?” Steve whined.

“I have eyes everywhere. You’re not as subtle as you think.”

“Urgh, someone heard me at the pharmacy, didn’t they?” He bet it was that blather mouth, Mister Nesbit. Or maybe it was Kirk just trying to be super extra helpful.

“Or that,” Mom agreed, sitting down on the bed next to him. “Were you gonna talk to me?”

“Um, no?” He tried to look at Mom, but couldn’t get any further than focussing on a spot just over her left shoulder. “I know we tell each other a lot, but I was kind of hoping to never discuss my sex life with my mother ever.”

“I don’t need details,” Mom rolled her eyes. “But a little heads up would be nice.”

“Heads up: this conversation is super uncomfortable,” Steve groused.

“I think it’s really responsible of you that you’re looking at protection,” Mom forged on, ignoring the way he was stuffing a pillow over his face, either trying to cover his  ears or suffocate himself, he wasn’t sure yet. Probably the latter if she didn’t stop talking. “And I know you and Bucky have been together for a long time, but are you sure you’re ready?”

“What?” Steve peeked out from behind his pillow. “Why wouldn’t I be?” It wasn’t like Mom was one to lecture someone on teenage sex, considering she’d been pregnant with twins by the time she was his age.

“Well, hiding behind a pillow because your mother said the word ‘condom’ out loud isn’t exactly a sign that you’re ready to have sex,” Mom pointed out, amusement and worry warring in her tone.

“How about at the next town meeting, you go around asking all the men if they want to talk about sex with their mothers, and then when they say no, you tell them they can’t have sex!” Even Taylor would agree with him on this one, as utterly horrifying as _that_ thought was.

“Don’t think I won’t!” Mom threatened.

“Mom, it’s fine. I’m fine. Bucky and I both want this. I just don’t wanna go into detail about it with you,” he paused. “Or Rory. Or anyone who isn’t Bucky, really.”

“I don’t know what to say here,” Mom confessed. “The whole ‘don’t get pregnant, it’s not that much fun’ thing doesn’t really apply. You know you can always say no, right?”

“I know, Mom.”

“And that you should make sure Bucky is on the same page as well.”

“Yeah, Mom.”

“And you can always come to me if you do want to talk about something, right?”

“I know, Mom.”

“Good.” Mom paused, looking around his mess of a room, trying to gather her thoughts.

“Does this mean I can borrow the car?” he asked, hopeful.

“No, Bucky still isn’t on our insurance,” Mom replied. He huffed. “But, next time I go to the big supermarket outside of town, you can come along and I will absolutely not notice if you slip off for ten minutes.” She got up, ruffling his hair.

“Whatever,” Steve said, swatting at her hands and pretending like he wasn’t kind of relieved. Not just that he could finally get the stupid condoms, but also that the conversation was over.

-

“I’m sorry, we don’t seem to be carrying those anymore. I’m not sure if they’ll be restocked. Would you like to talk to a manager?”

“No, never mind.”

-

“We are never having sex,” Steve greeted Bucky the next morning.

“What? Why?” Bucky said, startled. “I swear I didn’t lick my finger before turning the pages of your comic books.”

“Yes you do, that’s why I never loan you my collectors’ items,” Steve said. “But that’s not what I meant. We are never having sex because the universe does not want me to buy protection.”

“Not even at the big supermarket?” Bucky asked. He’d been a very sympathetic and caring boyfriend, patting Steve’s back and making appropriately horrified faces when he told Bucky about his conversation with Mom.

“They didn’t have any!” Steve said. “They asked me if I wanted to discuss it with a manager. Which means they’ll have to special order them, probably. But we _can’t_ , Bucky, everyone will _know_. The whole town will be talking about how we’re having sex because all of a sudden there are latex free condoms ordered especially for my penis oh my god!” Steve buried his face in his hands. He needed to shut up before someone heard him shouting about his penis or condoms or anything sex-related.

“Aww, Stevie,” Bucky said, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. “They don’t have to be for your penis. They could be for mine.” He waggled his eyebrows exaggeratedly.

“Great, I’ll be sure to mention that loud and clear when Reverend Skinner is behind me in line at the pharmacy,” Steve grumbled.

“Or you could thank your wonderful, amazing, resourceful boyfriend,” Bucky said, rummaging in his backpack and coming up with a box. A box of condoms. A real box of latex free condoms.

“How?” Steve gasped, subtly trying to check the box to see if this wasn’t some kind of dumb prank.

“I… may have stolen the car,” Bucky said, grimacing guiltily. “After Mom and Dad went to bed.”

“You,” Steve said in disbelief. “You stole the car.”

“Yeah,” Bucky said. “I pushed it to the corner of the block before actually starting it and drove to the gas station along the highway. It was very Teen Movie.”

“You stole a car and you did it without me!”

“It wasn’t really stealing!” Bucky protested. “I just… borrowed it without asking. I filled the tank before I went back.”

“This is the most bad boy thing you have ever done,” Steve told him, in awe.

Bucky made a face. “Stop rubbing it in, I already feel guilty.”

“No, it’s super sexy!” Steve protested. “My boyfriend, the bad boy. We can get you a leather jacket.” Now that Steve was wearing Bucky’s letterman jacket every day, that seemed like a fair trade off.

“Keep up that sass, Gilmore,” Bucky groused. “And you won’t have any need for those.” He nodded at the condoms.

“Yeah right,” Steve grinned. “Like you’d withhold sex after you went through all that trouble. After you _stole_ a _car._ ”

“Don’t think I won’t!”

“Nuh-uh. You wouldn’t last. I’m irresistible!”

“You’re a pain in the ass, is what you are.”

“So the condoms _are_ for me, then?”

“Steve!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is going to be a week later than usual, because of birthday-related lack of spare time and travelling home. In the meanwhile, you can come talk to me about Steve Gilmore on [tumblr](http://innytoes.tumblr.com/).


	8. Of dads, discourse, and disappointment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which it’s blood orange, Bucky, there is Shouting at Friday Night Dinner and it wasn’t Steve who started it, and Luke makes a promise he’s going to regret.

“Steve.”

“Hmm?”

“Steve, it’s been two hours.”

“I can’t decide if I should get this one, or this one, or both.”

“Two hours, Steve.”

“You’re the one who said you’d let me browse the art shop as long as I wanted if I won our bet, Bucky.”

“Yeah but that was before I found out you had insider knowledge.”

“Just because Luke shouted he was going to chase Taylor out of the diner with a broom the next time he came in doesn’t mean he actually would. To be honest, I was pretty surprised he followed through with it. C’mon, help me pick. This one is a nice orangey shade of red, but this one will have a fuller colour.”

“Those reds look exactly the same.”

“They do not!”

“They do, Steve, they’re exactly the same.”

“That one’s blood orange, and that one is bright orange-red.”

“This is ridiculous. You already have four different reds in your basket.”

“Well yeah, that’s maroon, that’s scarlet, that’s wine red and that’s oxblood.”

“Four reds, Steve! And most of them look the same!”

“I can’t even talk to you right now.”

“You do not need that many reds.”

“Actually, I also wanted to get a Bordeaux red, and a crimson, and a deep red and a rusty r…”

“Now you’re just doing it on purpose!”

-

Dean was invited to Pizza And Mock TV Shows Night, and he didn’t seem to realise what a big deal that was until he saw how in awe Bucky was that they trusted him with their pizza order.

“You wouldn’t let me take care of the pizza order for eight years,” he grouched.

“That was mostly because you were like, seven, and your tiny arms weren’t long enough to carry all those pizza boxes,” Lorelai beamed. Steve patted him on the back, amused, as Bucky decided that was okay, then.

Still, Dean didn’t get the enormous honour bestowed upon him, and then he brought a salad, and then he didn’t understand the Mock part of Pizza and Mock TV Shows night. Which, how could you not mock The Donna Reed Show?

“I don’t know,” Dean said, interrupting a perfectly good Mocking. “It all seems kind of nice to me.”

“What does?” Rory asked, voice flat.

“Well, you know, families hanging together,” he went on, completely oblivious to the evisceration that was about to happen. “I mean, a wife cooking dinner for her husband.”

“Yeah, traditional gender roles are super swell,” Steve rolled his eyes.

“She seems really happy!” Dean defended himself.

“She’s medicated,” Mom said.

“And acting from a script,” Rory added.

“Written by a man,” Mom nodded. She and Rory shared a little pizza fist bump. Steve raised his slice in solidarity. Bucky seemed to be trying to send Dean telepathic message through unsubtle hand gestures to shut up if he wanted to live through this night. Dean didn’t seem to be picking up on them, though.

“What if she likes making doughnuts and dinner for her family and keeping things nice for them and…” he finally paused, realising all the Gilmores staring at him. Bucky was pinching his nose in frustration, face a clear image of ‘I tried to warn you’.

“If you’re so hell-bent on someone having dinner ready when their partner gets home from work, you better start taking some cooking classes, Dean,” Steve said, voice chilly. “You know, for when Rory gets home from her important journalist job.”

“You can wear a nice apron and have a drink ready when she walks through the door,” Lorelai said, grinning.

“Yeah, have my pipe and slippers ready,” Rory grinned, clearly liking that idea. Dean looked confused and like he wanted to argue again.

“I know if I ever want to eat a vegetable again, I’m going to be the one who cooks,” Bucky said, cutting Dean off before he could make things worse.

“I eat vegetables,” Steve groused. Sometimes. If they weren’t gross. Or he couldn’t pick them out. Or if they were covered in cheese sauce.

“I’ve seen you pick the lettuce off your burger at Luke’s,” Bucky pointed out.

“Only when he’s not looking,” Steve said, chagrined. Which wasn’t very often since Luke had caught Steve picking the lettuce off his burgers. In fact, Steve was pretty sure he sometimes added extra lettuce in spite.

“Yeah, but it’s different with you two,” Dean said. Bucky whipped his head around, eyebrows doing a thing that Steve figured meant ‘Danger’ or ‘Shut up’ or maybe ‘Help I am having a medical emergency’.

“Why, because we’re both boys and thus we don’t have one person in the relationship who has predetermined strict gender roles they should feel pressured to adhere to?” Steve asked, glaring. Mom and Rory were glaring too.

 “I feel very unpopular right now,” Dean said, shrivelling slightly under the combined glares of three angry Gilmores.

“I tried to distract them,” Bucky muttered under his breath at Dean, shaking his head.

-

That week, Steve came home with his fourteenth detention slip of the semester and Rory came home with a baby chick. He wasn’t sure which one of them had it better off. Sure, the baby chick was fluffier and cute, but at least his detention slip didn’t cheep all night and poop.

“How does this work?” he asked, cutting out a picture of a really pretentious fancy coffee bar from a magazine so Mom could annoy Luke with it for her big ‘get Luke to repaint and maybe even redecorate’ project. “If you get an A, you get to keep the chicken? If you fail you have to eat it?”

“Steve,” Mom said in mock outrage, putting her hands on either side of the cage as if to protect Stella’s delicate senses.

“I’m just saying, this combined household could not take care of a tiny hamster, yet they give you a live chicken and expect you to keep it that way for a month.” Maybe if there was a grade involved, it would be easier. Also, the fact that Rory was old enough reach the top of the cage when it was sat on the table.

“That’s why I’m not trusting you or Mom to feed it. In fact, do _not_ feed it.”

“Why not? It’d make your case study more interesting. ‘Chick responds well to bagels, not a fan of pepperoni pizza’.”

“Stay away from my chick or I will start helping you on your art projects,” Rory threatened. Which, wow, testy.

“Okay, okay, I promise.” He flipped through the magazine some more. “Hey, how about this?” He held up the magazine to a gorgeous and frilly room full of deep pinks and gold accents.

“Luke would hate that,” Mom said.

“I know,” Steve beamed. “Bring the camera and get a picture of his face when you show it to him.”

“You’re not coming?” Mom asked.

“It’s make your own pizza night at the Barnes house,” Steve pointed out.

“Both my children abandoning me,” Mom said, incredulously. “It’s like you don’t want to spend time with your mother, who birthed you, who fed you, who clothed you, who...”

“Make your own pizza,” Steve interrupted. “Winnie and George even let me put pineapple on mine.”

“Abandoned and betrayed for pineapple on pizza!” Mom huffed. “Which is an abomination and a crime against pizza, by the way. So you’re disappointing me twice.”

“Just for that I am putting on extra pineapple.”

“Betrayed!” Mom wailed.

-

Mom wouldn’t let him come to the paint store with her and Luke, mostly for his own protection. He warned her that they were going to buy too much paint, or not enough, or the wrong kinds of brushes, but finally he admitted that his wallet wouldn’t survive a trip to the hardware store and that he should probably stay home. Instead, he played with his new watercolours, mixing the reds and feeling totally justified in his purchase of both blood orange and bright orange-red because they were actually really different take _that_ Bucky.

He was still muttering to himself when he heard the rumblings of a motorcycle, which… This was Stars Hollow. Nobody here was cool enough to own a motorcycle. He peered out the window, wondering if maybe Babette and Morey had some cool musician friends over. Except the bike pulled up at their house, not Babette’s, and then the person riding on the back pulled off their helmet and it was _Rory_.

No way was Dean cool enough to own a motorcycle like that. Steve hurried down the stairs, flinging the door open just in time to see Dad take off his helmet.

 “Dad!” he said, skidding to a stop. “What are you doing here? Is that your motorcycle? What kind is it? Can I have a go?”

“Hey, kiddo,” Dad said, laughing at his barrage of questions. “I’m gonna be in town for a little while and your mom said I could stay here.” Rory beamed at him. Steve was pretty sure that Mom wasn’t exactly thrilled, but right now he couldn’t care less, caught up in a rush of dad’s-here-and-he-has-a-cool-motorcycle. He grinned back.

“Hop on, we can ride by your boyfriend’s place and make you look cool,” Dad said, and Steve scrabbled to get the helmet on and climb onto the bike. They drove off, Steve calling directions over Dad’s shoulder as he held on, whooping when he sped up.

Logically, he knew this wouldn’t last. Dad never stuck around long. Hell, he didn’t even have a particularly good track record showing up when he promised he would. Not that Steve was going to bring that up, or anything. He didn’t want to be the reason Dad never visited Stars Hollow again. He was going to be positive, and try to enjoy it while it lasted. And not get his hopes up. And maybe try to get Dad to drive him everywhere on the motorcycle.

-

After school, Steve took Dad to see the mural at the retirement home. Several of the old people came out to pinch his cheek (and one pinched Dad’s butt) and give them hard candy and talk about what a fine young man Steve was and retell the story of that time with the paint and the truck in the town square forty-seven years ago. Steve had heard the story many times, and he still wasn’t really sure exactly what happened. He mostly smiled and laughed on cue. Dad tried to follow his lead.

After that, they wandered over to the art shop the long way around. Apparently the townspeople were still comparing Dad to actors and being generally weird. He’d nearly choked laughing at Rory’s story about Miss Patty flirting with Dad. Bucky had told him Miss Patty had pumped him for information as well. He’d been over for a movie night with Dad and while it had been a little awkward at first, nothing could be as bad as meeting the grandparents. Besides, Mom had been there, and there had been pizza, so it had all turned out fine.

Winnie wasn’t working that afternoon, which Steve had to admit was kind of a relief. Not that he didn’t want her to meet his father, but… well, he kind of didn’t want her to meet his father. Not in the least because more than once, Winnie had been the one to sit with him on the porch while he enviously watched Bucky and his dad play catch.

“That’s a lot of paint,” Dad said, as he pointed out his favourite brands and types. “Which one did you use for that painting in Rory’s room? I like that one.”

“You don’t have to buy me anything, Dad,” Steve said, shoving his hands in his pockets. Rory had told him about the awkward moment in the bookstore, and that paint was expensive. “I’m just glad to see you.”

Dad gave him a sideways look, uncomfortable and awkward. Steve bit his lip. So much for not making it weird so Dad would come back to see them more often.

“I want to do something together, though,” Dad said. “Some father-son bonding.” Steve bit his tongue, trying to remember his promise to himself to enjoy it while it lasted, to stay positive. He could be happy and bubbly like Rory. He could pretend he didn’t still sometimes feel a ridiculous pang of jealousy when he saw the picture on the mantle at the Barnes house of Bucky and George winning the Father-Son Two-Legged Egg-Spoon Race during Stars Hollow Summer Festival when he was nine, when Dad had promised to come, laughing when Steve had informed him over the phone it was super-duper important.

“I could teach you to ride the bike, except for how your mother would kill me,” Dad grinned.

“She’d probably use the bike to run you over,” Steve nodded, carefully adjusting an ink bottle so the label was facing forward. “Maybe… maybe you could teach me to ride in something else, though.”

“A bicycle?” Dad joked. “You’re a little old for that, aren’t you?”

Mom had taught him how to ride a bike. He and Rory had shared one when they were little, light blue with silver tassels and white tires. A whole week she’d rush to the garden shed and change from her maid outfit into a pair of cut-off jeans and a band shirt and practice with them. They’d taken turns with Mom holding the back of the bike, switching off when one of them got fed up with falling over (or Steve had to take a break due to his allergies). She’d kept at it for hours at a time, running behind them along the lesser-used parts of the Inn’s grounds, cheering when first Steve and then Rory figured it out.

“How about a car?” Steve asked, instead of mentioning that.

“You don’t have your license?” Dad asked, surprised. “Rory does.”

“After half an hour, two mowed down garden gnomes, and nearly backing into the porch and taking out half the roof, Mom and I decided that maybe she shouldn’t be the one to teach me,” Steve said. “And Bucky’s not allowed to teach anyone else to drive yet.” Never mind the fact that Bucky had kissed his forehead and told him there was no way in hell he was ever teaching Steve to drive, because he wanted to remain his boyfriend, thank you very much.

“Sure,” Dad said, perking up. “Of course I can teach you how to drive. I’m sure your Mom won’t mind if we borrow the car for a few hours next weekend. Maybe take it to an empty parking lot or something, though, to save the innocent gnomes.”

“I’m sure Babette will be grateful for that,” Steve said, smiling.

-

The ride over to Hartford for Friday Night Dinner was even more hilarious with two whiny parents talking about how they didn’t want to go. Steve regaled Dad with the best ‘and then Emily Gilmore decided that was Not Funny’ anecdotes, Rory chipping in. After they pulled up, Mom and Dad stood in front of the door side by side for a ridiculously long time.

“I’ve gotta see my parents,” Mom huffed, glaring at the door.

“I’ve gotta see my parents,” Dad echoed sulkily.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the drama king and queen of Connecticut,” Rory said, clearly unimpressed at the truly epic amount of whining going on. She turned to Steve, actually looking vaguely positive about this whole experience. “We’re going to meet a new pair of grandparents.”

“Great,” Steve said. “I’ve always wanted a second set of grandparents to disappoint.”

“Join the club,” Dad muttered as they let themselves in.

Grandma and Grandpa gushed about Dad, stopping just before claiming he’d painted the Mona Lisa and that obviously Steve had inherited his artistic talent from him. He’s seen Dad draw, and while he was very creative with his stick figures, Steve was pretty sure whatever inherent talent he possessed wasn’t from his father.

The arrival of Grandparents II: Paternal Edition thankfully stopped the conversation from getting even more ridiculous. Except for the fact that Rory awkwardly curtsied while Steve tried to breathe through his nose and keep his lips pressed together so he wouldn’t laugh at her. He himself settled for a head nod and a “’sup, Grams and Gramps.” They looked delightfully offended and confused, which was what he’d been going for, and as a bonus it took the focus off Rory’s awkwardness long enough for Mom to make fun of her. (Steve would get his shots in later. Like, for the next three weeks.) 

“You certainly take after your mother,” Straub commented, just on the right side of sneering.

“I do, thank you,” Steve said proudly, voice just on the right side of ‘fuck you’.

The conversation was awkward, stilted. Rory, sadly, decided not to follow his ‘Grams and Gramps’ example, floundering on what to call them. Grandma and Grandpa tried to salvage the conversation, steering it away from Straub’s underhanded and sexist comment about Rory’s age (excuse me, if anyone was having teenage sex, it was him, thank you very much) and intelligence. He was just about to pipe up with all the amazing things Rory was doing at school when Mom decided to say something that certainly shifted everyone’s attention.

“I hate President Bush,” she declared. “He's stupid and his face is too tiny for his head and I just want to toss him out.”

“His foreign policies are ridiculous,” Steve piped up. “And he needs a haircut.”

Sadly, incredibly rude subject-changes didn’t work as well on Grandparents 2.0 as they did on the first set, because Straub took the opportunity to belittle Mom, where she worked, and ‘how her life turned out’. Which, considering she ran a business, had two pretty okay children (okay, one angel and one very passionate but semi-delinquent activist), had her own place and car, was kind of bullshit. And classist. And condescending.

“And I wouldn't give a damn about you derailing your life if you hadn't swept my son along with you,” Straub finished a particularly snooty rant.

“Kids, go into the next room.” Mom was trying to get him and Rory to leave, which, like hell he was. Rory was already halfway to the door, but Steve refused to budge.

Grandpa tried to calm things down, for all the good it did. “I'm going to have to echo Christopher's call for civility here. A mutual mistake was make many years ago by these two, but they have come a long way since.”

“Steve, go to the other room,” Mom repeated in a low voice.

“A mutual mistake, Richard?” Straub huffed.

“No,” Steve said, crossing his arms.

“Steve,” Mom warned.

“Why should I go into the next room?” Steve said, raising his voice over Straub’s ‘pretending we’re one big happy family’ nonsense. “It’s not like we can’t hear him being an asshole over there.”

“Excuse me?” came the offended reply.

“You want to get in a little more slut shaming there, Gramps?” Steve said, standing up now. “Because even at my lowbrow public school, they were still pretty clear that you need two people to make a baby.”

“Young man, if you think you have a right…”

“To what? Not let you talk shit about what your son did to my mother? Because I’m pretty sure he didn’t trip and fall with his dick into her vagina.” And okay, he’d have to apologise to Dad for that later, that wasn’t fair. “Not let you be a classist asshole, sneering about ‘blue collar jobs’ when my mother worked her way up to running an entire business by herself?”

“Our son was bound for Princeton. Every Hayden male attended Princeton, including myself, but it all stopped with Christopher,” Straub said, standing up himself, gesturing. “It's a humiliation we've had to live with every day, all because you seduced him into ruining his life.” He looked past Steve at Mom, and wow, that was so out of line Steve was wondering if he could get away with punching his new grandfather.

“Seduced him? What is she, a siren? Maybe you should have taught your son about condo-”

“She had those babies and she ended his future!” Straub finished, talking over him, pretending he wasn’t even there. Which, from the sound of it, was exactly what he wished for.

“Steve, out, now,” Mom said, pushing him at Rory, who grabbed his arm and kept pulling until they were through the dining room, through the kitchen, and out into the garden. Rory was pretty strong when she wanted to be.

“Let go, I want to go back, I wasn’t done,” he said, trying to pull out of her grip.

“Mom can take care of herself,” Rory said, iron grip not letting up one inch. “And Grandpa has her back.” Which was true, they could hear Grandpa shouting now, which, go Grandpa.

“It’s bullshit,” he spat out.

“I know,” Rory said, using her free hand to dig into the pocket of his vest and push his inhaler into his hand. “So does Mom, and Dad, and even Grandma and Grandpa.”

“I’m fine,” Steve muttered rebelliously, even though he could feel his breath hitch. He was just so angry. Not because apparently, his grandfather wished he’d never been born, fuck that, but he didn’t get to say those things about his Mom. How fucking dare he pretend like it was all Mom’s fault, like Dad was some kind of innocent rube she’d seduced with her sixteen year old wiles.

“You’re not fine, you’re seconds away from passing out,” Rory said. “Now use your inhaler before I have to push your head between your knees or get a paper bag or something.”

He finally took a puff, which did nothing for his anger but at least kept the world from spinning because he couldn’t breathe normally.

“It’s bullshit,” he said again, sinking down on one of the patio chairs.

“I know,” Rory said, sitting down next to him. They heard a door slam, and angry footsteps as the adults went their own way to do whatever their version of ‘taking a puff of their inhaler and swearing’ was.

-

They ended up in the kitchen, a soda each, kind of just staring off into space. Steve had run out of ranting steam about fifteen minutes ago, and now he just wanted to go home, to call Bucky and to curl up with him somewhere quiet.

Grandma came in and fussed at them, getting out some leftover asparagus (yuck) and potatoes.

“Straub is actually a good man,” Grandma said. “Very smart. He was one of the top lawyers in his field - a very arcane aspect of International law.”

He must have minored in Insults at his precious Princeton, Steve thought bitterly, fiddling with the tab on his soda can.

“And he’s always been so active in his community,” Grandma went on, pushing the second plate to Steve. “His charity work has never diminished over the years.”

“Well, it’s good to know he’s not a flaming asshole one hundred per cent of the time,” Steve said, viciously stabbing at a potato.

“Oh, you’re right,” Grandma said, giving up trying to be nice. “He’s a big ass.”

Steve blinked, startled into laughter at Grandma swearing. Rory laughed too, weakly. Grandma sat down, looking at them intently.

“I know you heard a lot of talk about various disappointments this evening and I know you've heard a lot of talk about it in the past,” she told them. “But I want to make this very clear. The two of you, your existence, has never been, not even for a second, included in that list. Do you understand me?”

“Yeah, I do,” Rory said.

“Yeah, Grandma,” Steve said, trying to hide his surprise.

“That t-shirt you’re wearing, on the other hand, young man…” Grandma began, half-joking and half-serious.

“Aw, Grandma, what’s wrong with my ‘Fuck the police’ shirt? I even wore a cardigan with it!”

-

The next day, Dad packed up to leave. The ride home from Hartford had been weird and awkward, the talk with Mom about how Straub and Francine were just too stubborn to see how super great they were had been weird and awkward, and now Dad was leaving. Well, at least it wasn’t because Steve had made things weird and awkward. Well, not all by himself, anyway.

“Call us when you get home,” Rory said.

“I will,” Dad promised.

“And call more,” she demanded, like it would make a difference.

“I will.”

They said their goodbyes, with hugs and manly back-pats for Steve and kisses for Mom and Rory, and then Dad drove off.

“He wanted you to marry him didn't he?” Rory asked, watching him drive off.

“Spy,” Mom said, like they hadn’t been shouting about it in the kitchen at way too early in the morning. If Steve had been able to hear most of it upstairs, he was pretty sure Rory, who slept next to the kitchen, had been able to follow the general gist of the conversation.

Rory tried to talk Mom around to thinking Dad had changed, that maybe something was different this time. He did come to Stars Hollow this time, after all. Steve tuned them out as Mom tried to keep Rory from getting her hopes up, looking at the car where it sat in the driveway as they walked back inside. It was kind of pathetic really, the way Dad could get their hopes up with something as small as ‘coming to visit where they lived for the first time in sixteen years’ or a promise for a couple of hours of driving lessons.

He knew he shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up. It had been stupid of him to ask for something that big, stupid to think Dad would keep his promise, that the tiniest, miniscule change meant that he would suddenly remember what he had promised in the first place. And most importantly, it was stupid to feel so disappointed now.

He begged off dinner to go to bed early, saying he wasn’t feeling well, and begged off getting up at the crack of dawn to break into Luke’s place to help paint it, even though he’d been kind of looking forward to some mother-son minor criminal activity.

Instead, he met Bucky for coffee at Luke’s that Sunday morning. The place still smelled a little like fresh paint, which was nice. Several townspeople had come in just to gawp at the new paint job, until Luke threatened to kick them out if they didn’t order anything.

“Your mother wants me to get ‘manly curtains’,” Luke said by way of greeting, plopping down a big cup of coffee and a stack of pancakes with a side of bacon in front of him, and an omelette with cheddar on toast and an orange juice in front of Bucky. (They were pretty predictable in their Sunday Morning Coffee Date orders, apparently.)

“What are manly curtains?” Bucky asked.

“I dunno,” Steve shrugged half-heartedly, poking at his pancakes. “Denim?”

“You okay?” Luke asked. “I, ah, heard your dad left.”

“What else is new?” Steve said, unable to hide the bitterness in his voice.

“I told you,” Bucky said gently. “We can ask my dad to teach you to drive. I’m sure he’d be honoured.”

“George has enough on his plate, Bucky,” Steve said, swiping his bangs out of his face. “He’s been taking extra hours at the garage and stuff. I don’t want to bother him with that.” George deserved better than trying to teach a teenager with two left feet and no sense of direction how to drive, especially one who was still sulking about how his own dad couldn’t do it.

“I could teach you,” Luke offered.

Steve blinked up. “What?”

“Yeah, why not?” Luke said, like it was no big deal.

“Um, have you met me?” Steve asked carefully. “Have you not heard the story about how I murdered two gnomes and nearly drove the car through the house?” Babette had told that story at least seven times in the diner that Steve was aware of. (He’d given her new gnomes and his deepest apologies, alright, he wasn’t a monster.)

“We can practice in front of Taylor’s house, then,” Luke suggested. “We’ll have to clear it with your mom if you want to learn using her car. It might be easier than starting in the truck, though.”

“Thanks, Luke,” Steve managed around the mysterious lump in his throat. He quickly sipped his coffee to cover it up.

“No problem. Ask your mom,” Luke said, eyes on the door, hands going for the broom still propped up in the corner. “Excuse me, I have to go chase Taylor and rest of the ‘Town Beautification Committee’ away.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come talk to me about Tiny Stars Hollow Punk Steve Roger Gilmore on [my tumblr](http://innytoes.tumblr.com/).


	9. Of set-ups, break-ups, and boxes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Leo Fitz is not a poodle, Rory Does Not Mope, and Steve’s Bucky Box would contain all of Stars Hollow.

Emily Gilmore was an enigma. A mystery wrapped in a riddle wrapped in a snide remark. Behind the perfectly done up hair and the expensive designer outfits there was a brilliant mind that never did anything without reason. Emily Gilmore, queen of guilting people into coming to Friday Night Dinner, even when they were sick (Steve) or had a lot of studying to do (Rory) or just didn’t want to come (Mom), had given Rory the evening off because it was her and Dean’s three month anniversary. Just like that, when Mom called. No fuss, no fight. Something was up.

“Hey grandma,” Steve said, fishing the phone out of a stunned Lorelai’s hand. “Can I get Friday off too? It’s Bucky and mine twenty-first and three quarter anniversary.”

“I’ll see you Friday, Steve,” Grandma said pleasantly, before hanging up the phone. 

“The world is coming to an end,” Mom said, staring at the phone in Steve’s hand.

“Twenty-first and three quarters?” Rory asked him, amused.

Steve shrugged. “I dunno, I can’t math,” he lied, as if he didn’t know exactly when their first kiss had been. It’s not like they celebrated every month, or something. And who cared if maybe he did something special for Bucky every half-year anniversary, like buy him a coffee or make him a drawing or one time disastrously try to make him cookies? He was pretty sure Bucky didn’t know. He didn’t want to be called a sap or anything.

In any case, there was something hinky going on. So Steve played the supportive brother while Rory got ready for her date (that is, he stayed out of the way and let Lane in when she rang the doorbell). He promised Lane that she could signal Bucky if she really needed to escape. He and Bucky were going to meet up at the Founders Festival as soon as Steve could weasel his way out of dinner, so Bucky would be hanging around in case of a Korean Emergency.

With Rory suitably prettied up and Lane sent to her doom, they got ready and stopped for coffee on the way. Mom tried to bribe him into starting a ‘discussion’ with Grandpa about unionisation or the free market so she wouldn’t be bored. He reminded her that he’d already done that last week and offered to make her a bingo card.

He himself had gone the route of shoving a small sketch book into the back pocket of his Friday Night Dinner pants. Usually he couldn’t get away with it, but between Grandma’s weirdly cheerful mood and Grandpa trying to read the paper and Mom rambling on and knocking things over, nobody seemed to care. (“Be more like your son and sit down quietly, Lorelai.”)

The reason Grandma was so happy became apparent after two sketches and one incredibly awkward conversation about Grandpa’s sleeping habits. The doorbell rang and Grandma practically jumped up, hurrying to the door. Mom looked at Steve. Grandpa looked confused. Grandma came back with a kind of dweeby looking man trailing after her, talking about the neighbourhood and how close by they lived. She was beaming like a cat who had caught the canary. And then set her single canary daughter up with it.

Mom has just enough time to share a Look with Steve before being pulled into introductions with Awkward McSetup. Steve tried to keep a straight face, which was exceedingly difficult when the guy, Chase, said: “I’m just sorry your daughter couldn’t join us for dinner, I _adore_ children. Good thing I get to meet you, right, slugger?” and tried to playfully punch his arm. Steve leaned away, lips pressed together in what he hoped would pass for teenage annoyance, instead of ‘trying not to laugh hysterically at his mother’s predicament’. Mom could tell the difference, though.

Which was why her face was very triumphant when the doorbell rang again. Grandma popped up again, cheerful as could be, as Grandpa looked even more confused. Sure enough, when she came back in, she was talking to Dweeby Guy number two, High School Edition. Steve didn’t know if he should be insulted at the second attempt to set him up with someone, or touched Grandma was at least taking his sexuality into account when being highly inappropriate.

He ignored the whispered ‘ha _ha_ ’ Mom gave him when Grandma called him over to meet ‘Leopold Fitz, he goes to Chilton, just like Rory’.

“Just Leo is fine,” Awkward McSetup the Second said, grimacing and shaking his hand. Well, if Steve was named Leopold, he’d probably grimace as well. He nodded politely, sizing poor Leo up. He was kind of nerdy, but in a cute way. The English accent really helped. Not really Steve’s type, though. He looked pretty embarrassed at the whole thing, so he was smart enough to realise it was a set-up, at least.

“Nice to meet you,” he said politely. Just because he was mad at Grandma for trying to set him up with a boy when he already had a perfectly good boyfriend, didn’t mean he was going to be a dick to the guy. Not when he already looked fidgety enough that a loud noise would send him running.

He wasn’t quite polite enough to not follow Mom and Grandma into the kitchen to grill Grandma about the super inappropriate set-ups, though.

“They both have good breeding, they come from nice families,” Grandma tried to defend herself.

“Good breeding?” Steve echoed. “What is he, a poodle? I have a boyfriend already, Grandma.”

“You don’t _have_ to date him,” Grandma said. “Though he _does_ like boys, you know, you have that in common! His mother and I are on the Hartford Symphony Board together. Why don’t you get him a soda and just talk some?”

Steve rolled his eyes, stomping back in. He did his best to put on his friendly face. Poor Leo was stuck between Grandpa and Mom’s ‘date’ and just looked relieved someone, anyone, had come back. “Hey Leo, do you wanna come see what kind of sodas we have?” he asked, trying to sound chipper.

“Yes,” the boy said, nearly springing out of his seat. He followed Steve back to the kitchen, Grandma giving them a fake-cheery look along the way.

 “Listen,” Steve started when they got out of earshot. He was having a hard time looking Leo in the face, so instead he rummaged through the fridge. “I’m sure you’re really nice and all, and I don’t want to hurt your feelings but I’m very much already in a relationship and-”

“Oh thank god,” Leo interrupted him, and Steve stopped, turning around. “I mean, not that you’re not… I just mean that me too, you know, I have a boyfriend.”

“Really?” Steve blinked, then laughed. “Wait, does your mother like, know this? Because I’m pretty sure she told my Grandmother to throw you at me. Or me at you.”

“Yeah,” Leo grimaced again. “She knows. My parents don’t really approve, though, seeing as how he’s black and he doesn’t go to private school and oh yes, he’s black.”

Steve made a face. “I’m sorry, man, that sucks.”

“They’ve never really come out and said it,” Leo said, shrugging. “But you’re the third white boy they’ve tried to set me up with in the past two months.”

“Oh, wow, I feel special,” Steve said. The other boy laughed, relaxing a little. “You’re my first. Well, my first Grandparents-approved-rich-boy. They tried to push me at a girl on my birthday, though.”

“Well, welcome to the club,” Leo said. Maybe they could invent a secret handshake. Or a warning signal of some kind. “Hey, I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” At Steve’s eyebrow waggling, he started to ramble again. “No, not like, I mean… I meant my boyfriend.” He fished out a picture from his pocket, folded double. It had a bit of wear and tear, looking like it spent a lot of time going everywhere with Leo.

“That’s Mack,” he pointed out, and wow, Leo had great taste. Mack was the embodiment of tall, dark, and handsome. And muscly. “And that’s Simmons, my best friend. Things were okay when my parents thought I was dating her, but well, then she started actually dating someone, so I came out. They were okay with the bisexual thing, just not the, you know, the Mack thing.”

“That blows. My parents are fine with Bucky, but Grandma apparently thinks that if you can’t afford to buy a yacht with your pocket money, you shouldn’t be dating a Gilmore.” He pulled his sketchbook out from his back pocket again, opening it to the back cover, where he had a picture taped of him and Bucky at the annual town Apple Picking Festival. There were a ridiculous amount of hearts drawn around it, some with their initials in them, but hey, Leo carried around a picture of his boyfriend in his pocket, he wasn’t allowed to judge.

“That’s Bucky,” he said, a little proud. He didn’t often get to show Bucky off to new people. Everyone in Stars Hollow had thought they were dating long before they actually were, so by the time he wanted to show Bucky off, their relationship was old news.

“He’s cute,” Leo said. Then his face when sly. “Not as cute as Mack, though.”

“Agree to disagree,” Steve said, grinning. “You okay to stay for dinner? I’ll owe you one.”

“Sure. It’s going to be a lot less awkward now that it’s not a real set-up,” Leo admitted.

“Don’t be so sure,” Steve said. “I doubt that Boring McCreepy that Grandma tried to set my mother up with has a cute secret boyfriend. He’s probably going to make things a little awkward.”

“He can’t be that bad,” Leo said.

“He told her that he _adores_ children and tried to punch my arm and call me slugger,” Steve said.

Leo made a face. “I take it back.”

“Just be ready to make a break for it,” Steve said.

Dinner was a lot less awkward and painful than Steve had expected. For him, at least. Leo was a pretty cool guy. He was kind of a science nerd. Bucky would like him. Grandma looked super pleased they were getting along, and Steve didn’t want to burst her bubble by mentioning Leo’s hot boyfriend. Or his own hot boyfriend.

Things were going a lot worse for Mom, though. Not only was Chad boring, he was particularly unsubtle about his come-ons and talking about what a great catch he was. Steve thought there was probably a good drinking game in there somewhere (chug the whole bottle when Chad uses his creepy ‘seduction’ voice). After a while he couldn’t look Mom or Leo in the face, afraid he’d start laughing.

Thankfully, dinner was finally over. Grandma suggested they retire to the living room while she helped the maid (what). Mom made a very unsubtle comment about powdering her something and Steve took the signal for what it was.

“Grandma, Grandpa, would you mind if I show Leo the painting with the chess match?” he asked sweetly. Grandpa looked ready for the evening to be over, and Grandma was much too pleased at herself to notice Steve never asked anything sweetly.

“Of course, dear,” she said.

“C’mon,” Steve said, pulling Leo up and along.

“Where are we going?” Leo asked when they were out of earshot. He tried to pause at the painting, but Steve pulled him onward. “Steve? I thought you wanted to show me…”

“It’s a very nice painting yes, but right now we are getting out of here,” Steve said, grinning and slipping through into a dark room.

“What about your mother?” Leo asked. “We can’t just leave her here with… _Chad_.”

“That is very sweet of you,” Steve said, yanking him through the door. Leo looked very uncomfortable, either because he thought they were leaving Lorelai to her fate or because Steve was kind of tugging him into a darkened doorway and yeah he could see how that was weird and creepy. “But seeing as she’s probably sneaking out through another room in the house, you don’t have to worry. She’s the one who told me all the places you could sneak out of this house in the first place.”

The route they took (out the window, onto the roof of a gabled window, sliding down onto another little roof, then down some outcroppings) was definitely harder than Mom had described. Or maybe she was just a lot more limber and athletic at sixteen than both him or Leo.

They found Mom already inside the car, waving at them to hurry up. They jumped into the backseat like something out of an action movie, but with less squealing tires and a lot more ‘quietest getaway ever’. When they were safely out of the street and past Creepy Chad’s parents’ place, Mom turned her head to check out Leo.

“Where can we drop you off, kid?” she asked. “Parents’ place? Friend’s place? Shady bar outside of town?”

“I was going to meet up with Mack at my friend’s house after this,” Leo said, embarrassed. “My boyfriend, Mack, I mean.”

“He’s super cute and also not Parent Approved,” Steve filled her in.

“Friend’s house it is,” Mom said, following the directions to Simmons’ house. She insisted on waiting until Leo was safe inside, though. He got out and thanked them, sheepishly. Steve poked his head out the window.

“Hey, if you ever need a white boy to bring home to show your parents there are much worse choices than Mack, I have a spikey necklace and about eight t-shirts that have profanity on them.” He grinned at Leo before scribbling down his number on a blank page in his notebook and tearing it out. Leo took it, grateful.

 “Thanks,” he said. “I may take you up on that.”

“If you’re ever near Stars Hollow with your hot boyfriend, come by to see us, we can have a double date,” Steve said.

“Sure thing,” Leo said. The door of the house opened and a girl’s voice called out ‘Fitz, is that you skulking around?’. He looked back at Lorelai sheepishly. “Thanks for the ride.”

“You enjoy your real date now,” Mom said. They watched Leo run up to the house, giving a quick wave before turning to Simmons, who looked like she was already grilling him on what happened.

They drove out of the fancy neighbourhood, taking the long way around as to not come close to Grandma and Grandpa’s house. When they were back on the highway, Mom turned to him. Then looked ahead. Then looked at him again.

“What?” Steve asked.

“That was a really nice thing you did,” Mom said. She sounded proud.

“Well, it’ll be fun to be a fake terrible boyfriend,” Steve shrugged. “I can get all punked out and be even ruder than I usually am. Oh, maybe I can try burping the alphabet. Or I can use the wrong fork for my salad.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“It wasn’t his fault Grandma set him up with me,” Steve said. “I’m kind of glad he didn’t get all weird at the ‘sorry I already have a boyfriend’ speech, though.” He paused, peering at Mom. “And that he didn’t call me slugger.”

“Oh my god, I know, right?” Mom said, laughing. “Did you know Grandpa caught me sneaking out the window?”

“No!” Steve said, delighted. “Wait, what did he say?”

“He stared at me for like, ten seconds and then told Grandma I wasn’t there.” Mom looked pleased. Which was good. After the whole thing with Straub and Francine last week and Grandpa standing up to them, and now this, maybe Mom’s relationship with him would be better. Now if only Grandma could stop setting her up with boring guys…

“So should I tell Rory all about our new daddy when we get home?”

-

Mom dropped him off in the town square before bringing the car home. He hurried towards the bonfire, which hadn’t been lit yet. Seems like they were still in the ‘does anyone have matches’ phase. He spotted Lane with a group of solemn looking Koreans and gave a surreptitious little wave, scanning the crowd for Bucky.

He found him, standing near the gazebo, enjoying the drama of ‘I thought you were bringing the matches’ argument happening on the stage.

“Hey,” he said, slipping under Bucky’s arm. “No sisters?”

“Mom has the evening off, shop closed early for the festival,” Bucky said, beaming and pressing a kiss against his temple. “We have the whole night to ourselves.”

“Kissing without the sound of small girl children going ‘eww’, I like it,” Steve said, pleased. He pressed a kiss to Bucky’s lips to demonstrate. The only sound was the people around them heckling Taylor for not bringing anything to light the bonfire.

They watched the spectacle for a while longer, until finally someone suggested that maybe Taylor could get some matches at the Market. He dithered, something about costs and town by-laws on opening the market after business hours and such, until he was booed off the stage, speedwalking towards Doose’s.

“So, Grandma set me up with a really cute rich boy,” Steve said, leaning into Bucky.

“She what?” Bucky said, stiffening.

“Yeah, he goes to Chilton and he’s cute and nerdy,” Steve said. It was mean, but he enjoyed the jealous flash he saw on Bucky’s face. “We’re meeting him and his unapproved-of-by-his-family boyfriend for coffee some time.”

“You’re not funny,” Bucky grumbled.

“I am extremely funny,” Steve objected.

“You think videos of dogs walking into mirrors are funny,” Bucky said, like that was some kind of example of how bad his sense of humour was. As if dogs walking into stuff and then looking adorably confused wasn’t hilarious.

They bickered a bit more, Bucky’s arm firmly wrapped around his waist. Eventually they moved to kissing, and then swaying. Well, at least until Taylor came back from Doose’s with the news that there were no matches left at the market, someone had bought them all.

Kissing by the bonfire would have been romantic, but watching the Mayor trying to smack Taylor in the face with Bucky’s arms wrapped around him was almost as good.

-

Bucky walked him home and they spent at least five minutes making out on the porch before Steve figured he should go inside before Mom started making cat calls and grading their technique. It had happened before. He still waited until Bucky was out of sight to go inside, though, staring after him like the big sap he was.

Mom was sitting in a dark living room, staring out at the kitchen. He’d think she was waiting to do the whole ‘light switches on, where were you young man’ routine, but she looked way too serious and sad.

“Hey,” he said. “What’s up? Is Rory not back yet?” He gasped. He’d been ten minutes late as it was, fifteen if you counted the copious amount of porch-kissing. If Rory was late he so wanted to be there when she got busted. As long as she didn’t come back at five in the morning, like last time. “Are we lying in wait for Rory?”

“Rory’s in her room,” Mom said, quietly.

“So I’m still the bad twin,” Steve beamed.

“She and Dean broke up,” Mom said.

“What?” Steve asked, sure he heard that wrong. “I’ll kill him. What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Mom said, still keeping her voice down. “She won’t tell me.”

Steve sat down next to Mom. “So, what do we do?” he asked. He wasn’t sure, except for going to find Dean and to punch him in the face. Why would he break up with her? Rory was the smartest, prettiest, sweetest girl in the entire world. They were crazy about each other. It was kind of gross in a stop-kissing-my-sister kind of way.

“Give her some space,” Mom said. “Hope she wants to talk in the morning.”

“And then kill Dean?” Steve asked.

“Maybe,” Mom allowed. She sighed. “She put everything that she associated with him in a box and told me to throw it out. Her bracelet. Her fancy dress. Colonel Clucker. Half her closet.”

“Did you?” Steve asked, head reeling. Rory had had Colonel Clucker since she was four. She’d gotten him at the same time Steve had been given Professor Trumpet, the lilac elephant who stood at the foot of his bed which he insisted he did not sleep with anymore. And she loved that dress. Mom had made that dress.

He tried to imagine what he’d have to throw away so he wouldn’t be reminded of Bucky. He was pretty sure he’d have nothing left. He’d have to move to one of those weather stations in Antarctica and he’d still cry because that one time, Bucky wore snow boots.

“No, I hid it. She’s going to want those things someday,” Mom said, because Mom was wise and smart and probably had some boxes of her own somewhere. “Go to bed. Tomorrow we’ll see how we can best cheer Rory up.”

“Ice cream and movies,” Steve suggested. “And maybe punching Dean in the face.”

“Maybe,” Mom agreed.

-

He was feeling a lot less sympathetic to Rory’s plight when she woke him up at ten past six on a Saturday morning.

“Up please!” she said, voice perky and cheerful and too high pitched.

“Go awaaay,” he said, flailing a pillow at her, trying to beat her with it. Or smother her.

“I expect you downstairs in ten minutes, mister,” she said, waggling her finger at him. He threw the pillow at her. It landed at her feet with a soft thud. Great, now he had no pillow.

He wasn’t sure how he ended up shuffling behind Mom and Rory at an ungodly hour, Bucky’s letterman jacket wrapped around him and his eyes half open. Something about Rory shouting ‘up please’ a few more times and Mom literally dragging him out of bed saying that if she had to get up, so did he. But now Rory was saying they couldn’t go to Luke’s because it was near the market, and they couldn’t go down Peach, and…

“Coffee?” he whined. “Please?”

“Okay,” Mom said, starting to sound desperate herself. “We’ll just, um, well, we’ll figure something out.”

Figuring something out apparently meant making their way through a filthy alley. “I think I’ve been beat up here before,” Steve mumbled. A cat hissed at him. Rory and Mom discussed how interesting people’s trash was. Well, Rory did, still annoyingly chipper. Mom mostly tried to get her to stop touching garbage.

Luke’s was full of chipper Early Morning People. Luckily they found a table, so he could rest his head on it. “What is even on that list?” he asked his shoes. He noticed he was wearing two different ones. Same socks though, so he was counting it a win.

“Well, we need to get to get light bulbs,” she said. “And go to the recycling centre.”

“Who cares about light bulbs and recycling?” he whined.

“You do,” she told him. “You wanted energy efficient light bulbs. And you care about the environment.”

“I don’t care about anything at six in the morning,” he grumbled, before tuning out the world. Stupid Rory. He could probably go to sleep with his head resting on the table. It would probably be more comfortable if he pillowed his head on his arms, but that would mean moving. Maybe Luke would take pity on him after an hour and put a folded tea towel between his head and the table so he didn’t develop a permanent ridge there.

“Aw, not even me?” Another way-too-chipper voice asked him.

“No, you are the worst,” Steve said, ignoring the kiss Bucky pressed in his hair.

“What are you even doing here?” Bucky asked. Steve slowly moved his head to the side, not lifting it from the table. Bucky looked all rosy-cheeked and glow-y. He probably just finished his morning run, seeing as how he was wearing shorts and a t-shirt. He looked really handsome and wholesome and awake. Stupid Bucky.

“Hopefully, drinking coffee soon.”

“You told me that if I ever tried to wake you up before the clock hit the double digits on a Saturday you’d break up with me,” Bucky joked.

Steve’s head shot up from the table. All of a sudden he didn’t need caffeine anymore. He stood up and pulled Bucky away from the table, Rory looking sad and slightly bewildered at his sudden burst of speed.

“Don’t use that word around Rory right now, please,” he whispered at Bucky. Bucky stared at him, confused.

“What, digits?” he asked.

“Break up,” he said. He leaned in, voice even quieter. “Dean broke up with Rory last night.”

“He _what_?” Bucky’s head shot up, looking at Rory. She was hunched over the table, checking her list.

“Keep it down, she doesn’t want people to know,” Steve scolded Bucky.

“I’ll kill him,” Bucky said.

“Get in line,” Steve grumbled.

“I think we’ll both have to,” Bucky said, looking out the window, where Luke was in some kind of wrestling match with Dean.

“Oh my god,” Mom said, rushing outside, coat only half on before she was trying to break up the fight. Rory followed.

“Go Luke!” Steve called, hurrying behind them. Several townspeople mumbled their agreement. So much for keeping the break up quiet, then.

Mom managed to pull Luke off Dean and started berating him. Bucky, the jerk, grabbed Steve by the arm so he couldn’t step in and finish the job while Rory awkwardly apologised to Dean, because Rory was pure and good and sweet and god he really wanted to punch Dean until his stupid floppy hair was on backward.

Finally, Luke was inside and Dean was stalking off like a jerk and Mom went over to coax Rory out of her despair by asking about the list.

“I have to go do the supportive brother thing,” Steve told Bucky, giving him a quick peck on the cheek when Rory wasn’t looking. No need to rub her face in anything. “I don’t know if I’m gonna be around tonight.”

“Keep me posted,” Bucky said, squeezing his arms before letting him go (Dean was well out of sight by now). “Or give me a call if you need me to come by to drop off like, extra chocolate or a pizza or something.”

“Will do,” he said, before hurrying after Mom and Rory. “What are we getting first?” he asked, trying to sound chipper even though he had like, one sip of coffee and he didn’t get to punch Dean.

“A soap dish for the kitchen.”

“Well, aren’t we fancy.”

-

They spent the day being more productive than Steve had probably been in his entire life, going from shop to shop to the big supermarket to the next town over, all the while managing to further avoid any places they might run into Dean.

Rory, in her quest to Not Mope, had decided she was going to a Chilton Party. For fun. Of her own free will. Mom talked her into bringing Lane, at least. Steve offered to go, but for some reason Rory didn’t want him to.

“You’ll only get into a fight and try and punch someone,” Rory said.

“Well, point me at someone you dislike, maybe I’ll punch them for you,” Steve said.

“I’m not letting you anywhere near Chilton people until I’ve got my diploma, thanks,” Rory said. Which, come to think of it, was probably a good thing.

“Fine, but just remember when you’re dancing or swimming in their money pool or whatever it is rich kids do at parties, you could have had your brother there, making a scene,” he said, grinning and gallantly holding Lane’s coat open for her. He waved them off, watching them go. Since Rory only had to be home around midnight (or later), that meant he could probably go off and hang out with Bucky for a few hours. He had a feeling that sooner or later the No Moping thing would crash and burn, though, so he wanted to be around.

He called Bucky and told him to meet him at the market. Bucky made some concerned noises about how they Were Not Going To Beat Up Dean Even Though He Deserved It, but finally agreed when Steve promised on his first edition Captain America comic that he wasn’t going to punch Dean. Today. Besides, Dean didn’t seem to be working there today anyway.

What they did do was buy a bunch of ice cream and some chocolate, carrying it all back to the house as soon as they could before curling up on the couch together. Mom was out as well. Maybe she was doing the same thing, who knew, and they’d end up with too much ice cream for the freezer.

“So Rory put everything that reminded her of Dean in a box,” Steve finished explaining what he knew. He had his head in Bucky’s lap, enjoying Bucky’s fingers stroking through his hair. “And told Mom to burn it.”

“Man,” Bucky said. His hand had stilled. “If I had to throw away everything that reminded me of you, I’d have to burn down most of Connecticut.” He paused. “And Hollywood. Maybe Europe.”

“I was thinking the same thing, earlier,” Steve admitted. “Well, more like I would have to move somewhere remote, because I’m not a terrible person.”

“But burning stuff is so much more dramatic,” Bucky said, laughing. He returned to stroking Steve’s hair.

“Drama queen,” Steve scoffed, turning to look up at his boyfriend. The angle was unflattering and he could see up Bucky’s nose more than he could see his eyes. Still, his chest ached with the thought of ever losing him. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he admitted.

“Who’s the drama queen now?” Bucky said, ruffling his hair. “Luckily you’ll never have to find out, because we’re never ever breaking up.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this was a week late, folks, but between a wedding and my mother visiting and general Adulting, I wasn't able to finish sooner. 
> 
> As always, you can come talk to me about Tiny Punk Steve Gilmore or pretty much anything on [my tumblr](http://innytoes.tumblr.com/).


	10. Of Trix, trust funds, and teacups

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Steve does not have enough Gilmore blood, the twins lose out on a quarter of a million dollars, and Bucky wins Emily’s approval through teacups.

The announcement of Lorelai the First coming to Hartford was met with cheer (Grandpa), panic (Grandma), gloating at Grandma’s panic (Mom) and excitement (Rory). Steve himself decided to settle on ‘amusement at Grandma’s freaking out with a side of trepidation’. Grandpa had said Rory reminded him of his mother, which was good, but Grandma’s absolute panic and frustration at the thought of her coming meant she was at least a little scary. Which, well, Steve was the bad twin, maybe he was like Great-Grandma too, then.

Mom told them what little she knew about Great-Grandma in the car.

“I hope she likes me,” Rory said, excited.

“She’ll love you,” Mom reassured her.

“I’m going for three out of three on the disapproving grandparent scale,” Steve said.

“She’ll love you,” Mom repeated.

And okay, the panicked phone calls from Grandma throughout the week (asking back the hideous coat rack she’d given them one year, which they had to dig out of the garage while trying not to cause an avalanche of junk) were pretty funny. Rory scolding Mom about her gloating was also pretty funny, though less so when she started scolding Steve as well.

“I didn’t even say anything,” he complained.

“You were smirking,” Rory said, poking him. Which, yeah he was.

They managed to get the hideous coat rack in without great-grandma noticing. Grandma was jumpy and seemed to have to steel herself before going into the living room. Steve tried not to think about how now she knew how they felt before Friday Night Dinner. He was smirking again as they followed Grandma, but a firm ‘stop’ from Rory made him wipe the expression of his face. For now.

Grandpa was absolutely doting on her, practically beaming as he introduced him and Rory.

“Come,” Trix said. “I want to get a very good look at all of you.” They moved over to where she was sitting and she squinted at him. “The girls are tall.”

Disappointed grandparents, three out of three. He should have made a bingo card.

“How’s your health?” Trix asked. Well, at least he could go right on being the family disappointment.

“Oh, good,” Mom said.

“Very healthy,” Rory chipped in.

“Allergic to everything fun and several medical conditions on top of that,” Steve said, just as chipper. To list all the things he still had to worry about and the surgeries he’d had to fix things would take up most of dinner, especially if he included all the ‘Steve broke or sprained something because of Gilmore Shenanigans’ stories.

“You must get that from Emily’s side of the family,” Trix proclaimed. “Gilmores don’t get sick, isn’t that right, Richard?”

“We wouldn’t dare, Trix,” Grandpa chuckled.

“Your grandmother is always sick,” Great-Grandma told Steve.

“I’m hardly always sick,” Grandma tried to defend herself.

“You’re sick right now,” Trix said.

“Are you sick now, Mom?” Mom asked, just a hint of gleeful evil amusement present in her worried tone. Steve bit his lip, trying to keep a straight face.

“Headache,” Grandma deadpanned, quite obvious as to what the source of the headache was.

“Gilmores don’t have headaches,” said source proclaimed. “Our heads are perfect.”

Steve shared a look with Grandma, suddenly very glad he’d opted for his contact lenses tonight instead of his glasses. It was still funny to see Grandma run around trying to please Trix, like retribution for all the times she’d said snide things about Bucky, but it was kind of sad as well. He gave her a little pat on the shoulder when Trix snubbed her third attempt at hors d'oeuvres and asked to be taken to the dining room.

Dinner was weird and uncomfortable, but for once the weirdness wasn’t directed at them. Well, mostly. Mom’s jokes fell flat a few times (he should have brought a Bingo Card) and Trix did not approve of the name of his current hair dye (“Zombie Mermaid? What a ridiculous name.”). Then it was Rory’s turn to be grilled.

“Let’s talk about your education,” Trix said. “Where are you attending school, young lady?”

“Chilton,” Rory answered, and Steve hoped the conversation would stay focussed on her. He didn’t think ‘Stars Hollow High’ would be met with such an approving nod.

“Rory is in the top ten per cent of her class,” Grandpa bragged.

“We’re very proud of our Rory,” Grandma added. “She’s going to Harvard.”

And just like every other thing Grandma had said, this seemed to be met with disapproval.

“Harvard?” Trix asked, appalled. “Richard, how can you allow this girl to go to Harvard? You're a Yale man, your father was a Yale man!”

“Now, Trix,” Grandpa started.

“And what about you, young man?” Trix turned to him. “What university are you going to?”

Shit. He couldn’t very well come out and say ‘Yale’ now. For one, he hadn’t even discussed it with Mom yet, and he wasn’t planning to until he knew he could get the scholarships to afford it. The goal had always been to get Rory into Harvard. If Steve all of a sudden started going on about Yale, they might get off track. Besides, he didn’t want to get Grandma and Grandpa’s hopes up. Or worse, see their horrified faces at the idea of the wrong twin going to their precious Yale.

“I’m still looking into art schools,” he said instead. That sounded like something Rory would say. Hell, that’s probably what Rory had done, somewhere around age five. “Comparing courses, student evaluations, professors, the job opportunities of recent graduates, proximity to engineering programs.”

“Engineering programs?” Trix asked. “Are you planning a double major?” She didn’t look disapproving.

“My boyfriend wants to study to be an engineer,” Steve said, waiting for the last strike for the Disappointed Grandparent homerun.

“My dear,” Trix said severely, leaning towards him. “Never make important life decisions based on a man.”

Well. That wasn’t what he was expecting. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he managed, before Trix pounced back on the subject of Chilton.

-

He managed to get out of Saturday Night Dinner by making up a story about having to study as well, because if Rory got to have the night off, he did too. Besides, he and Bucky had some very important Making Out In The Gazebo planned, followed by ice cream and more kisses.

On Sunday, they had their usual breakfast date together, before going home to actually do their homework. (Well, Steve was. He was pretty sure Bucky the Golden Boy had his done already.) He’d just finished a long rambling conclusion on why Romeo and Juliet should have just run away together and gotten a damn job instead of all this dramatic cloak and dagger stuff when Mom came home from her high tea.

“Hey,” he said. “You’re home early. Did you get kicked out of the high tea place because Grandma finally snapped and tried to strangle Great-Grandma?”

“Close, but not quite,” she said. “Rory’s on her way home, how about we get coffee and wait for her at the bus stop? I’ll tell you all the juicy gossip.”

“Well, you’re not at the ER or the Hartford county jail, so how juicy can it be?” Steve asked, grabbing his coat.

They sat on the bench at the bus stop with coffee together in comfortable silence, until Mom turned to him. “Hey, what would you do if you won the lottery?”

“Buy a motorcycle,” Steve said. He paused. “And all the art supplies I want.”

“That’s it?” Mom asked.

“Pretty much,” Steve said. “I want a lot of art supplies. Oh, and maybe hire a barbershop quartet to follow Luke around all day. That would be funny.”

“That _would_ be funny,” Mom agreed as the bus pulled in. They gave Rory her coffee, before making their way towards Luke’s for more coffee.

“There’s something I have to tell you,” Rory said, face serious.

“What?” Mom asked.

“I loaned Paris your black mini and there’s a good chance you may never see it again,” Rory confessed. Steve had no idea why Rory wouldn’t just accept a perfectly good nemesis, instead of trying to be friends with Paris. Hell, it worked for Steve. He’d finished at least four calculus assignments this semester just so he wouldn’t have to see Grant Ward’s smug face when he was being lectured for not turning in his work. And hell, Paris probably didn’t punch as much.

“Oh well, there’s something I have to tell the two of you,” Mom said, putting an arm around him and Rory.

“What?” they asked in unison.

“You two lost out on a quarter of a million dollars today.”

“What?” Rory said, somewhere between amused and incredulous.

“What?” Steve said, somewhere between confused and… confused.

“Gran was talking about setting up a trust fund for you both for when you were twenty-five,” Mom explained. “And with the whole Chilton loan thing, she wanted to give us the money now to pay for Chilton, but Grandma and I blew it, because that’s what we do.”

“How?” Steve asked, frantically. Maybe they could fix it. Maybe they could talk to Trix. Maybe Grandpa could talk to her. She liked Grandpa.

“Oh, you know, in a typical Gilmore fashion,” Mom said, breezily. “According to Gran, offering the trust fund was a mistake because we weren’t mature enough to handle such a large amount of money.”

“What? I promise I wouldn’t actually buy a motorcycle!” Suddenly the ‘what would you do if you won the lottery’ question made a lot of sense.

“Don’t worry,” Mom soothed. “Grandma’s still paying for Chilton, so nothing really changes.”

Except for the fact that they had lost out on a quarter of a million dollars. And Mom just said it like it was a joke. Haha, I have two kids who I can’t afford to send to the universities they want because they are ridiculously, prohibitively expensive and I just missed out on the chance to get a quarter of a million dollars, isn’t that funny?

Steve tried to laugh along with Rory as Mom re-enacted the scene at the high tea place at Luke’s, waving around her phone until Luke scolded her to put it away. She tried to get Luke to pretend to be Grandma, since he was scolding her anyway, which lead to a bunch of bickering. He used the distraction to slip off to home, saying he’d forgotten about some French homework. Mom and Rory waved him off, still arguing that Luke would make a great Emily Gilmore, c’mon, Luke.

A quarter of a million dollars. Even divided by two, that was a lot of money. It would make paying for Yale go from ‘yeah right in your dreams’ to ‘dream school for at least a year or two to see if it’s worth it’. Who was he kidding, of course it was worth it. There was a reason he had a cardboard box under his bed filled with every Yale pamphlet from the last ten years.

When he got home, he kicked the door of his bedroom closed, jamming his desk chair under the handle. He squirmed under his bed on his stomach, trying to ignore the dust and oh, there was his favourite eraser, he’d been looking for that, before pulling out the Yale box. Besides the pamphlets, worn with the number of times he’d read over them, and a folder with admission requirements and scholarship options, there was a thick envelope at the bottom.

He pulled it out, spreading the contents on his bed. Every instance of birthday money, every commission he’d done for Taylor or some other town event, every part time job he’d lost because he was sick too often or he mouthed off to customers, every chore and yard sale and found penny since he was eight was in this envelope. He counted it, biting his lip, already knowing the answer (he kept a little paper in the envelope with the total tally, Rory’s organisation skills having rubbed off on him a little).

Five thousand two hundred thirty five dollars and seventeen cents.

Eight years of saving, of splitting his allowance carefully in half, of ‘well, I don’t really need that’ and ‘sorry I couldn’t get you anything cooler for your birthday’, of dates at Chez Bucky’s Back Yard instead of the fancy restaurant Steve really wanted to take him.

Five thousand two hundred thirty five dollars wasn’t even enough to be allowed to walk into an empty classroom at Yale.

He took a shaky breath before smoothing over the Yale pamphlet he hadn’t realised he’d been crumpling in his fists. There were a few wet spots on the pamphlet now, distorting the smiling happy faces of the Privileged Youths on the cover. They were mocking his five thousand two hundred thirty five dollars and seventeen cents. Their cardigans probably cost more than that.

Maybe he should just stop. Maybe he should take his five thousand two hundred thirty five dollars and seventeen cents and buy himself a nice cup of coffee and a change of dreams. Harvard and all was great and necessary for Rory, Ivy League schools were a great foot in the door for a career in journalism. Who needed a fancy school to be an artist, though, right? The starving artist thing was a trope for a reason. He could just move to New York and… magically get discovered somehow. Or maybe he should just stay in Stars Hollow, go to a school nearby for a useful degree and…

No. He wasn’t giving up. If Rory could work her butt off at that awful school and Mom could suffer through Friday Night Dinner for the rest of her natural life (and quite possibly at least half of her afterlife, if it was up to Grandma) he could do this. He just had to work hard, keep his head down, and find every scholarship known to man. He could do this.

He angrily wiped his tears away, stuffing the money back in the envelope and fishing out his wallet. He only came up with fifteen dollars and twenty cents, but he put it in the envelope, making a little note on the scrap of paper.

Five thousand two hundred fifty dollars and thirty-seven cents.

-

“Where are you going?” Rory asked him, looking up from her book. She’d been sitting on the porch for half an hour, just in case Grandma showed up early.

“Getting out of here before Grandma shows up,” he said. He had a backpack full of art supplies and Twinkies and a vague idea of where he was going, which sounded like the perfect Saturday afternoon to him. Much better than walking around town with Grandma, listening to her calling things ‘quaint’ in That tone.

“You’re not going anywhere, mister,” Rory said, grabbing him by the backpack as he tried to get away. “Grandma is looking forward to spending time with both of us.”

“You’re the one who invited her,” Steve sulked. “Besides, I’m meeting Bucky.”

 “Bucky doesn’t get off work until three,” Rory pointed out. Damn her and her detail-oriented mind.

“Maybe I’m meeting him at work,” Steve said, knowing he was losing the fight.

“You’re not allowed in there unsupervised.”

“Maybe I have plans to creepily sulk in front of the store until three.”

“You are coming with us or I’m telling Mom what really happened to her Baywatch alarm clock.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Lose the backpack or I’m calling Mom right now,” Rory said, walking towards the front door in a highly threatening manner.

“You are evil. You are secretly the evil twin,” Steve complained. “I’m telling everyone.”

“Nobody will believe you with my perfect angelic face,” Rory beamed.

-

It wasn’t too bad, all in all. Watching Grandma and Mrs Kim haggle was better than any reality TV show Steve had seen, and Grandma proclaiming she liked Mom’s old running shoes was pretty hilarious. They made their way past two more antique stores before stopping at the best stop of the day: Potter’s Pottery, Ceramics and Porcelain. Not because Steve was wild about ceramics, but because they had the cutest shop attendant in all of town.

“Bucky!” he called. “Your favourite customers have arrived!”

“Don’t go left, Gilmore!” came a voice from the back of the shop.

“Why not?” Grandma demanded. “What’s left?”

Bucky grinned, coming from behind a shelf filled with teacups. “The unicorns moved.” He was looking particularly dashing in his hot pink Potter’s Pottery shirt, his hair all neat and his ‘be nice to the customers’ smile softening into something more real when he saw Steve.

“Steve’s not allowed near the unicorns anymore since he kept accidentally knocking them over,” Rory explained.

“He once nearly took out an entire display because the sleeve of his sweater got caught on a horn,” Bucky added, the traitor.

“I see,” Grandma said. “Are we allowed to look at the unicorns?”

“Oh sure,” Rory said. “It’s a very Steve-specific ban.”

Grandma and Rory went off to look at the figurine section, and Steve very obediently stayed put. He couldn’t afford breaking another unicorn. Instead, he wrapped his arms around Bucky’s neck and kissed him. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Bucky said, looking pleased. “I thought you were going Arting.”

“Rory blackmailed me into coming with her and Grandma on a tour of Stars Hollow’s best antiquing places,” Steve said, enjoying the face Grandma made when Rory pointed out a particularly tacky unicorn figurine. “So of course we had to come here so you could show off your arcane knowledge of fiddly teacups.”

“I know you’re making fun of me,” Bucky said. “But we just got in a complete antique Wedgwood tea set in that’s supposed to be really rare and expensive. I can probably sweet talk Eleanor into showing it to your Grandmother.”

“Did you say antique Wedgwood?” Grandma asked, her Rich Person senses tingling.

“Yes ma’am,” Bucky said, slipping into Friendly Sales Guy mode instead of ‘This Is Steve’s Very Scary Grandmother’ mode. “Gorgeous blue pattern, hardly any wear at all. It just came in yesterday, so it’s not even in the store yet. Would you like to see it?”

“Yes, please,” Grandma said, sounding gleeful at the scoop. It was weird, seeing her look at Bucky with something other than disdain.

“Right this way,” Bucky said, leading Grandma into the bowels of the store. Rory beamed at him.

“See, I told you this was a good idea.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve groused. “Hey, can you get me to the back of the store without me knocking anything over?”

Grandma ended up buying the Wedgwood set, along with five other things Bucky magically produced from obscure places in the shop and back rooms. Eleanor was beaming at the business (and the fact that Steve had not broken anything), Rory was gloating at how great her idea was, and Grandma was looking at Bucky kind of like he was a magical unicorn.

“I’ll get everything wrapped up safe and have it delivered to you by Tuesday,” Bucky promised, handing Grandma her receipt and giving Steve a quick kiss on the cheek and a ‘I’ll see you at three?’.

“I like this town,” she said again when they were back outside.

-

He begged off going to the Inn after their lunch. It had been pretty amazing to see Rory point out all the options for lunch and watch Grandma pick Teriyaki Joe’s. It was even more amazing to watch Grandma actually eat her whole lunch with relish. Grandma was in such a good mood that she didn’t seem to mind him not sticking around. Rory was still gloating over what a great idea this had been.

He hurried home and grabbed his backpack before deciding to hole up at Luke’s and get some figure drawing in. He picked the table in the back by the window, giving him a good view of the diner and the town square. Luke grumbled at him for taking up an entire table by himself with his sketchbook and pencils, but also poured him a cup of coffee automatically.

He’d managed to get some pretty good sketches by the time three came around. He had a few of Luke, all unfinished, because he refused to stand still. There were a few quick ones of people walking by and a more detailed one of Taylor which he’d stopped working on when Taylor realised he was drawing him and started to ‘subtly’ pose while still arguing with Luke. His favourite was the one of Miss Patty in the door of her dance studio, tiny ballerina’s vague shapes in the background.

He finally packed up his things and waved at Luke before heading to Potter’s Pottery. He decided not to tempt fate and go in again, instead peering through the front door and loitering until Bucky came out. 

“Hey,” Bucky said when he came out, giving Steve a quick kiss, which turned into a longer kiss. “How was the rest of the day with your Grandma?”

“We went to Teriyaki Joe’s for lunch,” Steve told him, grinning at the way Bucky’s eyebrows shot up.

“That doesn’t really… fit with my image of your Grandmother.”

“She said it looked festive. I think she was still high on her score of a very rare antique Wedgetree tea set,” Steve said.

“Wedgwood,” Bucky corrected. “But yeah, so was Eleanor. She was beaming at me the whole rest of the day. She said something about getting me an employee of the month award.”

“Buck, you’re her only employee,” Steve couldn’t help but point out.

“Don’t step on my moment, Stevie,” Bucky said, ruffling his hair out of its carefully styled mohawk. “I scored big with both your grandmother and my boss. So I was thinking I go home to change real quick and then we can hit up a movie?”

“Oh, um, sorry Buck, I’m kind of out of money this week,” Steve said, shoving his hand in his pockets. He should have saved at least a little for their dates.

“That’s okay, we can go next week.”

“And the rest of the month.”

“Jezus, Steve, what did you do? Did you go into the art shop unsupervised?” Bucky joked. He didn’t look mad or upset, just a little surprised. Steve was usually super careful planning his money out.

“I kind of had a breakdown when Mom casually mentioned Great-Gran was almost going to give me and Rory a quarter of a million dollars but then she changed her mind, so I put all my money in the Yale Box,” he admitted. Bucky knew the rules of the Yale Box. Once you put money in, you couldn’t take it out again, unless it was an emergency. A real emergency, not a ‘I really want that cool feminist dinosaur t-shirt’ or a ‘but I really need some chocolate chip cookies’ emergency.

“Wait, back up. Your great-grandmother was going to give you and Rory a quarter of a million dollars?” Bucky stared at him.

“Yeah,” he ducked his head. He was not going to get emotional about this again. “Apparently she was going to put it in a trust fund for when Rory and I turned twenty-five, but since Rory needed the money for school now, she’d give it to us earlier.”

“And then she changed her mind?” Bucky prompted, linking his arm with Steve.

“Grandma and Mom had a fight about the money, and Trix decided that we weren’t mature enough to handle it so never mind, apparently.” He swallowed thickly, focussing on breathing in and out calmly.

“Never mind getting it now, or never mind at all?” Bucky asked thoughtfully. “Because you could pay off a lot of student loans…”

“I didn’t dare ask,” Steve muttered. He wasn’t sure he could bring the subject up with Mom, who either really didn’t care about the money or was just trying to make light of the situation because hey, there was nothing they could do about it anymore anyway. Rory still got to go to Chilton, all was well with the world.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Bucky asked. “Your great-grandmother has been gone for like a week.”

Steve puffed out a breath, leaning into Bucky. “I dunno,” he said, running a hand through his dishevelled mohawk. “It just felt so stupid, you know? To cry about losing money we never really had.”

“It’s not stupid,” Bucky soothed. “It could have changed a lot.”

“And then I was looking at the Yale Box, and counting the money and it just seemed kind of pointless, you know? I’m never going to save up enough to pay for school. And then I got mad at myself for giving up and kind of…” he huffed again. “Urgh, I dunno. It’s all stupid.”

“I know,” Bucky said, pressing a kiss to his temple. At least Bucky understood where he was coming from. If it weren’t for his Army plans, he’d be stuck in the very same boat. There weren’t exactly many soccer scholarships to go around, and while Bucky was an amazing inspirational captain, the Stars Hollow High Soccer Team couldn’t even win against other local high schools. The only reason they had enough kids for a team to begin with was because some of the basketball players had rolled their eyes and promised to help out if they were a person short. Not exactly scout material.

“How about instead of a movie, we steal some ice cream out of the fridge and rifle through your mother’s VHS collection?” Bucky asked, because he was the best boyfriend ever. Ice cream and snuggling and watching something dumb sounded like a great plan.

“Have I ever told you you’re the best boyfriend?” he asked Bucky, leaning his head on Bucky’s shoulder.

“Yes, and employee of the month,” Bucky beamed.

-

“Hey Rory?” Steve said, poking his head into her room. Rory looked up from where she was reading on the bed. “Did you get a really weird phone call from Grandma this afternoon?”

“You too, huh?” Rory asked, not surprised.

“She asked me who my favourite football player was,” Steve said, flopping down on the foot of her bed. He didn’t know the first thing about football. Bucky had tried to explain it to him multiple times, but it was a lost cause. The only thing he liked about going to the Super Bowl party at the Barnes house was that Winnie made lots of snacks and they put on the Puppy Bowl during the break.

“What did you answer?” Rory asked, amused.

“Vincent van Gogh.”

“She asked me what my favourite flower was and if I liked N’Sync or 98 Degrees,” Rory said.

“Aw, she didn’t ask my favourite flower,” Steve sulked.

“What do you think it’s about?” Rory asked.

“Who knows,” Steve said. “Maybe she’s planning our next birthday party already. She’ll have to start early to book N’Sync and get the New York Packers to come.”

“I don’t think that’s a team,” Rory said carefully.

“Eh, close enough.” Steve shrugged.

It became painfully obvious what the weird questionnaires were for that Friday. Grandma opened the door looking slightly manic before grabbing his and Rory’s hands and dragging them up the stairs.

Rory’s room was… well, it was ridiculous. It was a mess of plush and pink, with sunflowers in random places and boy band posters on the walls. Rory, of course, managed to keep from laughing and be very sincere in her thanks. Steve hoped he could do the same, as Grandma cheerfully informed him his room was right across the hall.

It was at once so much worse and so much better than he expected. The room was painfully heteronormative, with a lot of blue and some kind of nautical theme. Which was pretty funny, seeing as how he’d told Grandma his favourite colour was red. There were weird rope-knots and a lamp shaped like an anchor, and for some reason there was a skateboard artfully propped in the corner.

 “It has Superman posters,” Mom hissed at him, and he followed her gaze away from the random nautical knick-knacks. Instead of N’Sync posters, he had artfully framed Superman posters, which was so well-meant but completely off the mark that Steve had to smile.

“It could be worse,” Steve whispered back. “It could have been Batman.”

Above the mantle, Grandma had hung a reproduction of Vincent van Gogh’s Starry Night.

 “It’s great, Grandma,” he said, surprised at how much he meant it. Okay, most of the stuff in this room had nothing to do with what he actually liked, but the idea that Grandma had made such an effort for him and Rory was really sweet. “I love it.”

“I know you like superheroes,” she said, beaming. Steve didn’t have the heart to explain to her the various complexities of Marvel versus DC. “The young man at the shop said Superman was most popular, and always fighting for what was right.”

“Thank you,” he said, giving her a hug. Over her shoulder, he noticed the Aquaman figurines on the shelf and made a face. Mom hid a snort.

“Let’s go downstairs and see if dinner’s ready,” Grandma said, beaming, ushering them downstairs.

“Oh my god,” Steve muttered under his breath to Rory when they were out of earshot. “Does this mean I have to start reading Superman?”

“I don’t know, do I have to start listening to N’Sync?” Rory asked.

“Please don’t,” Steve said, laughing.

“It was really nice of her, though,” Rory said.

“She tried,” Steve conceded. Rory gave him a Look. “Okay, yeah, it was nice of her.”

Maybe he could at least _try_ to read some Superman comics, or something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bucky's job is solely due to the fact that Luke mentions in season two that Stars Hollow has 'twelve stores devoted entirely to peddling porcelain unicorns'.
> 
> The next chapter is going to be the last chapter of part 1 and will span into the start of season 2 of Gilmore Girls. It's going to be super long as well, so I'm going to give myself an extra week to write it. 
> 
> As always, come find me at [tumblr](http://innytoes.tumblr.com/) for more Steve Gilmore shenanigans.


	11. Of Max, Man-Dates, and Marriage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Rory makes a grab for the bad-twin title, Steve and Max have a man-date, and a drunk Emily is a sappy Emily.

There were certain things in Steve’s life that were a constant. They were comfortable. They were the Way Things Were. On Sunday he always has breakfast with Bucky. Luke will always grumble if you try to order more than three cups of coffee in half an hour. Taylor was anal, Kirk was weird, and Rory was the good twin. The smart twin. The nice and happy twin.

Except right now, she wasn’t. She was mopey and sad and cranky, which was kind of Steve’s thing most of the time. She didn’t want to go to the movies or the art store or even the book store. She didn’t want to swing by school to cheer on Bucky’s disastrous soccer team. She definitely didn’t want to go into or even near Doose’s. She was even being snotty with Mom, which was definitely supposed to be Steve’s thing.

He’d tried to get her to talk about it, but she didn’t want to. He’d tried not to rub his and Bucky’s happiness in her face, but that just made her mad too. He’d tried joking that he was the one who was supposed to be picking fights with Mom about trivial stuff, but that had just earned him a glare and a pointedly closed (not slammed) door.

So when Mom came home shouting something about round two of a fight, he assumed she was talking to Rory. Because the only fight he and Mom had this week was about who ate the last Pop-Tart, which had been quickly solved by unearthing another box from behind some healthy breakfast cereal (and really, who the hell had bought that?).

“Rory?” he heard Mom call. “Answer, please!”

“She’s not here,” Steve said, coming down the stairs. “I thought you were meeting her at the bus stop?”

“She said she’d meet me at home,” Mom said, confused and worried. “You’re sure she’s not here?”

“No,” Steve said, growing worried.

“Rory?” Mom called.

“I’m sure she just got distracted by a shiny book or something,” he said, trying to keep Mom from panicking. The way Rory had been acting lately, he was pretty sure that wasn’t it, though.

“No, we had an argument,” Mom said, re-checking Rory’s room. “And she didn’t want to go pick up light bulbs, so she said ‘I’ll see you at home’.”

“Well, yeah, it’s not Wednesday,” Steve mumbled.

“What does that even mean?” Mom cried out, frustrated.

“Dean doesn’t work on Wednesdays,” Steve clarified. “Don’t freak out, she probably went on a walk to cool down. Have you tried paging her?”

So they tried paging her. Again. And again. And again. And then Mom started to panic, and Steve started to panic, and it was getting dark and they called Bucky and Sookie and started to go look for Rory. Sookie took the library and the school, Steve and Bucky took the bookstore and Luke’s. They scoured the entire way between the bus stop and home, looping back to try alternative routes.

He was starting to freak out a little. This was Rory. Rory who had once seen Steve pack up his The A-Team backpack to go join the circus when they were nine and had made him a two page long pro-con list on why he should stay at the Inn (Pro: free cotton candy Con: you’re probably allergic to the lions). Rory wouldn’t just run away without telling anyone anything, even if she was upset.

 “What if she was kidnapped?” he asked Bucky, who squeezed his hand.

“This is Stars Hollow,” Bucky countered.

“What if she was… chased by wolves or coyotes or something?”

“Again, this is Stars Hollow,” Bucky said. “Don’t worry, she’ll turn up. She probably just needed some time to cool off. We’re looking for her and Sookie is looking for her and my mom is keeping an eye out for her and your mom is calling people.”

“Then why can’t we find her?” Steve said, all the worry he was keeping from Mom creeping in his voice.

“Because Rory is smart and if she wants to avoid us she will,” Bucky said. “We just have to, you know, think like her. Where would she go if she didn’t want us to find her?”

“I don’t know,” Steve said, miserable. “It’s not like there’s a bad neighbourhood or like, a crack house in Stars Hollow she could hide out in. God, Bucky, why hasn’t she called?”

“Go check in with your mom first,” Bucky soothed. “Maybe Rory’s called or come home by now. I’ll do another loop around the block.”

When they got to the house, Rory hadn’t called and wasn’t there. Who was there was a little surprising.

“We’re back, did Rory call y- Did you call Chilton or something?” he asked, blinking at Mister Medina, standing in their hallway, holding on to his Mom’s arms as she clung to his.

“What?” Mom asked, confused. “No. Max was… Max was coming over for our date and I called him because of Rory and…”

“Your date?” Steve asked. “You’re dating Max again?”

“Well, no, because I got into a fight with Rory and she ran off and I had to cancel and…” The phone rang before Mom could pull another ‘you be the good twin right now’ argument, which was really unfair seeing as how she hadn’t told him or Rory about this. Maybe that’s why Rory was so mad. Steve was pretty annoyed Mom hadn’t told him, too. Mom went to answer it the phone, and he whirled on Max, fixing him with a glare.

“Could Rory be at Chilton?” Steve asked instead of all the things he wanted to ask, like: ‘since when are you dating my mom again’ or ‘how come you broke up with her in the first place’ or ‘are you going to break up again because if so allow me to pre-emptively punch you’.

“The school and the gates are locked, so no,” Max said, still looking slightly bewildered. “Not unless she has a natural talent for lock picking and fence scaling.”

“She’s _there_?” Mom said into the phone. “Is she okay?”

“Your Mom didn’t tell you we’d been talking?” Max asked, cautiously. Steve glared some more.

“Well, apparently it’s not important to tell your kids you’re dating the guy who broke your heart last time,” he huffed. He still wasn’t over how upset Mom had been, how terrible she’d felt. She’d tried to keep it under wraps after that first period of moping, but she wasn’t as happy as she was. And then she’d never told them they started talking again? Why, because she wasn’t sure it’d amount to anything? Or because she didn’t want him and Rory to object?

“It was-” Mister Medina started, probably to say something reasonable like how it had been a mutual decision for the good of bla, bla, bla. Steve didn’t really care. This guy had hurt his mom.

“Whatever,” Steve huffed, waving his hand, not sure if he was mad at Mister Medina or at Mom. Maybe a little of both. Maybe a little of both and he was worried about Rory. He knew he was acting like kind of a dick, but he didn’t know how to stop. “It’s none of my business, apparently.”

“Her room is here, Mom. I'm standing here looking at her room and she's not in it,” Mom was saying, standing in the kitchen. Rory was in Hartford? With Grandma and Grandpa? Bucky had been right, that certainly was a place they wouldn’t have thought to look.

“I’m going to go find Sookie and tell her Rory turned up,” he said, more as an excuse to get out of talking to Max and Mom than anything. He stalked out of the front door, carefully not slamming it, and set off down the street to find Bucky before heading to Dean’s, hopefully to intercept Sookie. He wasn’t going to run off or let Mom think he was mad at her too, though he was pretty sure Max would tell her something.

It was just so stupid, why wouldn’t Mom have said anything? Things had been so depressing at home lately, with Rory moping about Dean and he assumed Mom secretly moping about Max too. Bringing home any type of good news was kind of like a mine field. He’d taken to gushing at Skye about the cute things Bucky did, which was usually met with eye-rolling and gagging sounds, but at least they were happy, joking gagging sounds.

He hadn’t noticed a change in Mom, really. It wasn’t like she’d been floating and happy, like the first time she’d been with Max. Was she hiding how happy she was? Or was she just not that happy this time around? Either way it sucked that she hadn’t told him.

Great, now he was the one who needed to go for a walk and cool off.

-

He managed to avoid Max in the following weeks, which was kind of immature, but worth it. Mom had talked to Rory and him about getting back together with Max, and that she was sorry she hadn’t told them. Steve still felt kind of like a jerk about the way he acted, though, but instead of sucking it up and talking to Max, it was just easier to be out of the house when he was around.

Which kind of made the news that Max had proposed kind of awkward. Somehow, Steve didn’t think he was going to be able to avoid his mother’s fiancé and soon-to-be-step-dad for the rest of his life. He’d have to suck it up and apologise. At least Max seemed like a nice guy, and he was a teacher, so he probably knew that most teenagers were assholes.

“You should walk down the aisle to Frank Sinatra with a huge bouquet of something that smells really good,” Rory said, excited. The entire town was covered in yellow daisies. Steve had no idea what a thousand yellow daisies looked like until Mom had brought them back to the inn to show them (and then put them to work hauling daisies outside). And yeah, he had to admit it was super romantic, if a little impractical. But it had been fun running around town all evening, distributing flowers, especially now that Rory and Dean had apparently made up and she was back to her bubbly self.

“Pot Roast,” Mom suggested wistfully.

“I bet Sookie would take that as a challenge,” Steve said. “I call dibs on being your best man. Bridesman?"

“Bridesmate,” Bucky suggested. He finished weaving the last daisy into the flower crown he’d been making and put it on Steve’s head with a flourish, beaming. “I have an adorable five year old you can borrow as your flower girl,” he offered. “I’m pretty sure by then we will have convinced Rose that flower petals are not ‘pulling out the flower’s hair and hurting them’.”

“I'll take any other subject in the world for two hundred, Alex,” Mom said, annoyed.

“Why don't you want to think about this?” Rory asked. She was pretty much already done planning the wedding thrice over, including the honeymoon. Steve was kind of worried he’d have to remind her that children didn’t actually go on the honeymoon with the married couple.

“Because I haven't made my mind up about the yes or no part,” Mom said. “So I don't want to start fantasizing about dresses and flowers or doves and tulle until I do, so please change the subject.”

“I think the bridesmaids should be able to pick their own dresses,” Rory said, seriously.

“But they should stick to the same colour scheme,” Steve added, because he didn’t want Mom’s wedding to be tacky.

“Oh, and matching ties for the groomsmen!” Rory said.

Mom groaned, swatting them away with some of her daisies.

-

The Sunday afternoon after what was going to be known forever as Dean’s Terrible Dinner, they were lounging in the living room. Grandpa had called yesterday to apologise, and while Rory was suitably calmed down (mostly because Mom promised to wear her Porn Star t-shirt to Friday Night Dinner next week if she cut Grandpa some slack), Dean was still sulking.

“Don’t worry about it,” Steve had tried. “Bucky told them his ten year plan and they still didn’t like him.”

“I thought Bucky was joking when he warned me about Friday Night Dinner,” Dean groused.

“One does not joke about the Gilmore Grandparents,” Bucky said, seriously. He’d told Steve he’d taken Dean apart and given him a serious talk about what to expect, and that Dean had blown him off like it was some kind of Gilmore joke. “I told you, just steer the topic back to how great Rory is, they like talking about how great Rory is.”

“I tried,” Dean said. “He wouldn’t let me.”

“So far we’ve had two out of two boyfriend dinner storm-outs,” Steve said. “Hey, you think if Mom ever brings Max over, we can go three for three?”

“She’d have to tell Grandma and Grandpa she’s getting married, first,” Rory pointed out.

“She can tell them at dinner, then they can say something mean, and we can storm out again,” Steve decided.

The phone rang, and Rory flopped over Dean on the couch to grab it. Dean did not seem to mind at all. “Hello?” she said, before beaming. “Oh hey, Max. Mom isn’t here right now.” She looked up. “Steve? Sure, he’s right here!”

She threw the phone at Steve before he could make an ‘I’m not here’ gesture. He fumbled it, managing to hold it upside-down to his face before Bucky turned it in his hand.  “Hello?”

“Steve!” Max sounded a little flustered himself. “I was wondering if we could meet up some time next week.”

“Um,” Steve managed.

“To get to know each other,” Max clarified. He sounded very earnest. Steve could hear nervous paper shuffling in the background.

“Sure,” he managed. It wasn’t like he could say no to something like that. And he probably should get to know the guy his mom was marrying. And apologise for being a little shit. And maybe give him some version of the shovel talk.

“How does Tuesday after school sound? I can come by Stars Hollow…” Max trailed off, uncertain.

“Tuesday sounds fine,” Steve agreed. He wasn’t meeting Taylor and Miss Patty about the new top secret town charity project posters until Thursday, so he had some time to loaf around.

“Great!” Max said. “I’ll see you then.”

“Bye,” Steve said, hanging up the phone. Rory was looking thrilled. Bucky looked curious. Dean was mostly staring at Rory in adoration or something. “So I guess I have a man-date with Max.”

 “Should I be jealous?” Bucky teased.

“I swear to god if he tries to take me to the batting cages or something…” Steve began.

“He’s an English teacher,” Rory said. “I think you’re safe. And he’s nice. And he’s marrying Mom. So be nice to him.”

“Fine, I will be nice to Max on our super awkward man-date,” Steve huffs.

“You can maybe start by not calling it a super awkward man-date to his face,” Bucky suggested.

-

Mom was surprised but happy when Steve told her about his Super Awkward Man-Date with Max, though she agreed with Rory that maybe they shouldn’t refer to it like that in front of Max. She also told Steve that Max had asked her what Steve liked, and that she’d replied that he’d love to go to the batting cages with him, because she was The Worst.

He met up with Max at home, getting into his car when he pulled up in front of the house. Mom was still at work and Rory had Important After School Things (and also, it would have been weird for her to drive home with a teacher anyway). “Hey.”

“Steve, hi,” Max smiled. He looked like he was trying not to be nervous, which was kind of sweet, really. This was a guy who dealt with groups of over-privileged rich kids all day, hoards of bored teenagers, and, from what Rory had told him, managed to engage most of them and at least vaguely encourage the rest. And he was nervous about meeting with Steve.

“So, your mother was talking about this place where you can get amazing cake,” Max said. “And I’m highly intrigued.”

“Weston’s?” Steve asked. “Sure, we can go to Weston’s.” He gave Max directions. He was at least glad that Mom hadn’t suggested Luke’s, because that would have been really awkward on their Super Awkward Man-Date. Even more awkward than any kind of sportsball attempt.

They got some coffee and gave their orders. Max got chocolate cake, which didn’t really seem to say anything about a person except that they liked chocolate cake. It wasn’t some kind of weird flavour, but it wasn’t something boring either. Steve went for the cheesecake, which said he had excellent taste and enjoyed the finer things in life. And also that he liked cheesecake.

“These slices are huge,” Max said, somewhere between daunted and appreciative. “They’re almost as big as my head.”

“There’s a reason Mom likes this place,” Steve said. He didn’t mention that the risk of ordering alongside a Gilmore in Stars Hollow increased the chances of your portions growing by at least fifty per cent.

They awkwardly picked at their cakes for a while.

“So,” Max started. “Lorelai tells me you’re an artist.”

“I do art stuff,”  Steve hedged, talking through a bite of cheesecake.

“I’ve seen pictures of the mural you did,” Max said. “It’s very impressive.” Of course Mom had shown him, she loved bragging about her kids. Or maybe he’d seen the picture on the fridge (the one with Steve and the old people posing like superheroes with the mural in the background).

Steve shrugged. “It’ll look great on my college applications,” he said, which was true, at least. He left out the part where he’d pretty much demanded the job from Taylor because it would be legal graffiti and because the design ideas they’d shown at the town meeting were atrocious. “It was fun. And the old people were nice.”

There was another awkward silence. Steve bit his lip. He should make an effort for Mom. Max wasn’t a bad guy. “So, uh, what’s it like being an English teacher at Chilton? How many papers romanticising Romeo and Juliet do you need to read before you start to question your life choices?”

Max laughed. “Luckily, for every paper romanticising it, there’s another calling it out as unhealthy, sexist, or in one case ‘plain bad planning’ and offering an alternative scheme.”

“Paris?” Steve guessed.

“I’m not at liberty to say,” Max said, but his face clearly showed ‘yes of course it was Paris’.

It was a little easier to talk after that. Max was pretty funny, and he also did not like going to the batting cages, and he liked Rory and he really liked Mom. They finished their cake, Max groaning about how full he was and how he just spoiled dinner (Steve contemplating how he kind of wanted another piece), when Max turned serious.

“Listen, I know this was really uncomfortable and kind of weird,” he said. “But I love your mother very, very much, and I was kind of hoping we could be friends, or at least friendly.” His face was very earnest, and he looked so nervous, like if Steve didn’t approve, Mom would call off the wedding or something.

“I know,” he said. “And you seem like a nice guy. I’m sorry I’ve been such a jerk.” It felt good to say it, and he hoped Max would accept his apology without making it awkward. Well, more awkward. “You make Mom happy, and that’s what counts.”

“Right,” Max gave a firm nod, looking so much like a teacher Steve had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. “So does this mean we can plan another Super Awkward Man-Date?”

“Sure,” Steve grinned. “We can go to the batting cages.”

-

The wedding planning was well underway by the time Max came back from his Toronto teaching gig. He’d brought back real Canadian maple syrup, which earned him another ten points in Steve’s book. Not that he was keeping score or anything. Except that he was.

So when Mom invited Max over to stay the weekend while his apartment was being repainted, it was a good opportunity to see what it would be like to have him around full-time. Like a trial run, Mom had said. And it was nice. Max cooked, and knew fancy oven tricks, and let himself be bossed around by Mom and Rory, which also earned him points.

It was a little awkward still, but getting better. There had been one more Super Awkward Man-Date, which had actually turned out into a Only Slightly Awkward Twin Date, where they actually went to some batting cages in Hartford and proceeded to not hit a single ball for half an hour. Max ended up being hit in the elbow and Steve took a ball to the knee. Rory managed to fling the bat away so they had to figure out how to get it back while being pelted by baseball. It was a highly successful outing if you didn’t count the bruises.

But it was weird, too. There was this guy hogging the sink in the morning and he took a really long time to order at Luke’s and it was just strange. Especially when Max tried to Adult him and Bucky when they broke off from the triple date Mom had insisted on. The date had been fun, with lots of food and ice cream after. But then Steve and Bucky broke off to walk to Bucky’s place and Max had asked where they were going.

“Gonna walk Bucky home,” Steve said over his shoulder. He figured he didn’t need to spell out the ‘and make out in front of his front door until we run out of breath’ part. Max was an English teacher, he knew about things like subtext.

“It’s eleven,” Max said, looking at Mom, who was still licking the last of her ice cream off her fingers.  She gave them a little wave with the hand already mostly devoid of stickiness.

“Yeah,” Steve agreed. “See you later.”

“When will you be home?” Max asked.

“Right after I knock over the liquor store,” Steve called back, before looping his arm with Bucky’s and stomping off. Bucky rolled his eyes, but walked with him.

“Cut him some slack,” Bucky said when they were out of earshot. “He’s still getting used to Gilmore World. You know the rules are different in Gilmore World.”

“There’s a death penalty on buying decaf, for one,” Steve agreed.

“Dean and I gave him some tips,” Bucky said. “He’ll be fine.”

“He won’t be if he tries to keep me from making out with my boyfriend,” Steve grumbled.

-

The next morning, Mom wanted to have a Talk. She didn’t announce it, like she sometimes did (the Puberty Talk had been announced with confetti and blocking the door so he couldn’t run away), but it was still pretty clear when she sat next to him on the couch. He took the liberty of wedging his cold toes under her leg, seeing as how she nearly jumped on top of him anyway. Rory was with Dean and Max had errands to run, so it was just the two of them in the house, for now.

“What are you drawing?” she asked.

“Pumpkins,” he said, showing her his sketch book. “I’m trying to convince Taylor he really needs new signs for the annual Pumpkin Festival.”

“Didn’t you make signs last year?” Mom asked.

“Yes, and I’m doubling my fee this year,” Steve said with grim determination. He’d have to come up with something good if he was going to convince Taylor to spend his precious budget. He’d even drawn little pumpkins which looked like townspeople.

“So last night was pretty weird, right?” Mom asked, diving right in. At least there was no We Are Going To Talk About Max confetti.

“A little,” Steve conceded. “I mean, dinner was fun, and all, but… He knows he’s not going to have to parent us or something, right? Because I kind of want to avoid a melodramatic ‘you’re not my real dad’ Lifetime Movie moment, but I’ll do it if I have to.”

“I have no doubt you would,” Mom said. “I’ve talked to Max about it, and I’ll talk with him some more.”

“As long as he gets that,” Steve said, crossing his arms and sinking into the pillows. “I don’t need another parent.” Just the one was fine with him, and Dad was a nice extra sometimes, when he came through.

“I’ll talk to him,” Mom repeated. “Try and cut him some slack, though, okay?”

“I will,” Steve promised. He sighed. “It’s just weird, you know? Him being here.”

“Are you worried about not being the man of the house anymore?” Mom asked.

“What?” Steve sat up. “No! That’s sexist and creepy. As if my gender would have anything to do with-”

“Steve,” Mom cut him off. “Relax. What’s bugging you?”

“I just don’t want things to change,” Steve admitted. He’d only known Max for a little while, only really had a few conversations with him, real conversations that didn’t involve dodging baseballs, and already Max thought he had some kind of right to tell him what to do. “Everything’ll be different.”

“Oh hon,” Mom put a hand on his knee, understanding all the things he wasn’t saying. “Maybe it’ll be a good kind of different, though.” Which probably would have worked better if Rory hadn’t told him about Mom freaking out at her in the middle of the night because she had a boy in her room and how their lives were forever going to be different and something about giant man-eating ants. He wasn’t sure if that had been part of the conversation or if Rory had dreamed it. Both were equally likely when it came to Mom.

“And I don’t want to hear you and Max have sex either,” Steve blurted out. “My room is right down the hall from yours and if I can hear your alarm clock I can hear you having sex so you’re either going to have to be really, really quiet or you’re going to have to build me a room downstairs or maybe let me spend the night at Bucky’s sometimes because…”

“Steve,” Mom cut him off. “Please stop talking, for both our sakes. We’ll figure it out, I promise.”

“I know,” Steve sighed. “And I’ll try not to be a jerk about stuff. As long as you’re happy.”

“Sure,” Mom said, giving him a small, tired smile. “I’m happy.”

-

Mom’s bachelorette party was off to a good start. They tried to make sure Mom ate before the partying portion of the evening, but she also downed like three glasses of wine during dinner, so that probably cancelled out the dinner.

They got to the bouncer of the drag club Sookie had found, who looked pretty unimpressed at the two minors standing in front of him. “It’s twelve bucks,” he said. “And it’s eighteen over.”

“Oh, they’re over eighteen,” Sookie said, entirely unconvincingly.

“That’s right,” Rory chipped in, eyes wide and innocent and very much not looking like an eighteen-year-old. “Last week. So it’s a new eighteen, but it’s eighteen, yup.”

“You got some ID?” the bouncer asked. Steve rolled his eyes and passed the guy the fake ID Skye made him for his birthday, trying to exhume confidence. The guy checked the ID and looked back up at him, eyebrows sceptical.

“I’m her older brother,” Steve lied, trying to keep a straight face as he felt Mom’s eyes bore in the back of his head. If she kept that up, he was pretty sure he was going to be set on fire by the sheer Mom-ness of her gaze. “What, you got a problem with short people?”

“And you?” the bouncer asked Rory, giving Steve back his ID. He was calling Skye first thing tomorrow, because even if the doorman was sceptical, he hadn’t confiscated the ID or anything.

“Hey, sir, make way for Rory. That's her name. And her only name. Rory,” Mom said, stumbling over her own lies. “Single name, she's that important. Internationally known international supermodel and sometimes spokesperson for international products.”

“She’s very big in Germany,” Sookie added.

“Ja, ja, ja, with the lederhosen and such,” Mom said. If she was going to give him a hard time about his fake ID, he was so going to throw that back in her face. Ja, ja, ja, with the terrible role model and such.

“Twelve bucks,” the bouncer said, waving them through with a roll of his eyes. Steve nodded, like it was a forgone conclusion while Rory practically skipped inside. Mom tugged his ear when they got in the door, trying to look disapproving.

“Do I want to know?” she asked.

“Ask me no questions and I will tell you no lies,” Steve said. “Besides, we can’t all be international supermodels.”

“I don’t know, I bet you could smize,” Rory said, grinning. He tried and ended up kind of squinting at Rory and nearly running into Mom, who stopped dead in her tracks.

“What in Lucifer's reach is my mother doing here?” Mom nearly shouted, and it was a good thing the music was so loud or Grandma would have probably heard. She was sitting at a table, looking highly unimpressed by events.

“Oh, I invited her,” Michel said, smugly. “Just a little surprise for you. I thought it would be a kick.”

It was only a little awkward with Grandma there. Mom wasn’t letting it stop her from getting absolutely plastered, Sookie and Michelle kind of liked Grandma for some bizarre reason, and Miss Patty could get along with anyone.

The alcohol might have helped. Even Grandma seemed a little less uptight and prim than usual. She even started reminiscing about her own wedding. “My stomach was not my friend. It was full of butterflies, I couldn't eat a bite the whole week.”

“What a bummer,” Mom said, throwing back some more nuts from the little glass on the table and not sharing at all, rude.

“I was actually weak in the knees. Trembling all the time, can you imagine?” she asked, all wistful and nostalgic. It was weird, seeing her like that, but funny too.

“Really?” Rory swooned, because she was a big sap.

“When I wasn't actually with Richard, I was thinking about him. Constantly. Imagining what he was doing, was he thinking about me?” Grandma went on, sounding almost gleeful. Steve wondered if he could get her drunk more often, Friday Night Dinners might be more fun. Mom was making amused faces, probably thinking the same thing. “Making up little scenarios in my head about how we'd run into each other accidentally at the club. And he would be playing golf and I would walk by and he would be so distracted that he'd completely miss the ball.” Grandma laughed to herself, a little embarrassed. “Silly.”

Steve didn’t want to admit that he may or may not have had those thoughts about Bucky when he was younger. Or like, last week. Okay, yesterday. Though lately they usually took a more dirty turn.

“It’s sweet,” Sookie insisted.

“But the thing I remember most was that for the entire week before my wedding, I'd wait until my mother went to sleep, and I'd sneak out of bed and I'd put on my wedding dress and my tiara and my gloves,” Grandma said, almost beaming. “And I would stare at myself in the mirror and think how very safe I felt. How very right and wise and honoured.” She caught herself, looking away. “This is a very good drink. I highly recommend it.”

And dammit, he didn’t have alcohol to blame for the way his stomach fluttered and the way he needed to call Bucky, like, right now. Sookie already had her phone out, denying she was calling Jackson while actually calling Jackson.

“And who are you writing to?” Grandma asked Rory, who was furiously typing away.

“I just want to see if Dean's around,” Rory said, blushing. Steve rolled his eyes, like he wasn’t fishing in his back pocket for his wallet to see if he had any quarters. He was pretty sure he’d seen a payphone in the back.

“And thinking about you?” Grandma said, smiling as Rory ducked her head.

“I’m just going to…” Steve got up and looked around, spotting the payphone in the back. Well, it was kind of vaguely in the direction of the restrooms. “Go to the men’s room. For a while. Yeah.”

Miss Patty grinned her ‘you’re not fooling anyone, kid’ grin at him and said: “Say hi to Bucky for us.”

“You don’t know me,” he muttered and then totally went to call Bucky.

-

He got home reasonably early from Bucky’s, and not just because Bucky kept mercilessly teasing him about calling him at the bachelorette party like a sap. (“Are you sure you weren’t drunk?” “My mother was right there, Buck!”) He still needed to put the finishing touches on the portrait of Mom and Max he was making as a wedding gift.

When he came home, Mom was thrumming with nervous energy. “Oh, good, you’re home,” she said, grabbing him by the elbow and dragging him into Rory’s room. Rory was laying on her bed, reading, until Mom started grabbing stuff from her drawers and throwing them on her book.

“Pack!” she said.

“What?” Rory asked. Steve blinked, confused.

“Pack!” Mom repeated, gleeful.

“What’s going on?” Rory asked.

“We are hitting the road,” Mom declared, continuing to throw random items of clothing on top of Rory’s book. “We haven’t taken a roadtrip in forever and the weather is perfect!” She finished emptying out Rory’s drawers and danced around Steve to the other side of the room to throw more clothes around.

“Are you and Max eloping?” Steve asked, confused. It was kind of like Mom, eloping, he could see her do that, except for the fact that Sookie had been working on the menu for days already and the thought of disappointing her was insane. Maybe she wanted to get sneaky married before the actual wedding to get one over on Grandma?

“You can’t take a roadtrip to elope,” Rory insisted. “You’re getting married this weekend.”

“No eloping. Do you have my blue swimsuit?” Mom asked, as if little details like weddings were inconsequential.

“What about Max, then?” Rory asked, confused.

“Sunscreen, we need sunscreen,” Mom said, not turning around.

“Mom, stop,” Steve said, gently pulling her to turn around. Something was very wrong.

“What?” Mom said, almost jogging in place, like she couldn’t stop moving or she’d explode.

“Are you and Max getting married?” Rory asked point-blank.

There was a pause, as if Mom had to process that question. “No,” she finally said.

“Why?” Rory asked, heartbroken.

That seemed to snap Mom out of her crazy energy. Her face screwed up and tears gathered in her eyes. “Because I didn’t want to try on my wedding dress every night.”

It was barely an explanation at all, and yet he and Rory knew exactly what she meant. They sprang into action, Rory dragging out a bag from under her bed, while Steve went to the kitchen to set aside roadtrip snacks.

“Where are we going?” Rory asked.

“We don’t have to,” Mom said, voice still shaky.

“Hot, cold, rocky, sandy, mountain, valley?” Rory pressed.

“I didn’t really have a particular spot,” Mom admitted.

“Packing for all contingencies, got it,” Rory said, filling up her bag while Steve piled boxes of Twinkies and bags of chips on the kitchen table before stuffing them into bags. “Light layers.”

“I’ll put some cooling elements in the freezer so we can bring some soda,” Steve said. “And I’ll grab some roadtrip music.”

“Are you both sure?” Mom said, stuck between looking at both of them pack.

“Of course,” Steve said. “Mom, we’re always gonna back you up, no matter what you decide. Now, when are we leaving?”

“Tonight?” Rory asked, holding up two books for Steve. He pointed at one and she threw it in her bag.

“First thing in the morning!” Mom said, getting a little of her pep back.

“Seven-ish?” Rory asked.

“Five-ish!” Mom said in all her enthusiasm, then realised who she was dealing with. “Well, it’ll be more like six-ish.”

“Let’s shoot for five-ish,” Rory said, because she was the golden child. Personally, Steve thought there was a difference between being a supportive offspring and torturing one’s self, but he didn’t argue.

“Snacks are done. I’m going to go upstairs and pack,” he said. And maybe get word out to Bucky. Perhaps he could just write him a note and they could drop it off at five in the morning. He’d have to write it now, there was no way anything coherent was coming out of him at five.

“You’re both crazy and I love it,” Mom said, joyful and relieved.

Steve ran upstairs, getting out his own bag and looking through his closet for stuff that fit Rory’s suggestion of light layers. The portrait of Mom and Max was sitting on his desk, still waiting for the finishing touches. He looked at it, a pang of regret, before rolling it up and gently stuffing it in his trash bin. He had a bag to pack and a mix-tape of terrible roadtrip music to make.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little (okay a lot) later than planned, but there it is, the final chapter of part 1! Thanks so much for reading and commenting, everyone. If you want to scream at me about Gilmore Girls or Steve Gilmore while I work on part two, my tumblr is [here](http://innytoes.tumblr.com/).


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